Hero Queens, Creepy Crawlies, and Jovial Lechers
by TurnipWizard
Summary: The story of a Hero's rise from Princess to Queen, her struggle to save Albion from the coming danger that threatens to destroy all life, and her strange facination with a certain deviant tycoon.  Spoilers inside, you've been warned!
1. The Worst Kind of Day

Disclaimer: I own nothing Fable, not the Princess/Hero/Queen, Albion, or the wonderfully delightful Reaver. It's just for fun, and we do so love fun. =P

Author's Note: Well, if you're reading this, I thank you for being interested enough to at least click on it. So, this is the first chapter of my first story, (on this site), and because of such, I feel I should inform you of a few things I'm planning for the future of this story. While dealing with canon events, I will try to stick to the dialogue as much as possible, but there's only so much you can expect. The rating was chosen because A) the game itself is rated such, and B) anything Reaver has a hand in is not suitable for young children. =P Also, I apologize for this first chapter; I've never really liked the beginning of games, (excluding the first or second time I play them.), so I'm kind of trying to rush past this first bit so we can get to the fun stuff. I once again thank you for bothering to read my story, even if you don't make it past this note. XD

* * *

The castle had been growing unusually tense lately, anyone could see that, but on this day it seemed far worse. As the Princess awoke at Jasper's insistence, the morning seemed quite fine. The weather was fair, and she was to meet with Elliot after she dressed. Yes, everything seemed rather wonderful in those early moments of the day. Dressed in simple finery, (the term may have been redundant, but it was far less lavish than some of the clothes in her wardrobe), she departed from her quarters after she bade her butler farewell. She was far accustomed to seeing soldiers salute her and civilians and staff bow as she passed, and had long since paid it any mind, save for the polite nod and smile that followed their various gestures. She hadn't the time to stop and greet every one of them individually, and she doubted that was their desire either. It was simply a formality for both parties. The Princess couldn't even begin to guess how many formalities she was told to adhere to, and frankly the whole thing had become bothersome awhile ago. As luck would have it, after a short while of finding it bothersome, she found it routine, hence it was no longer a bother. Some things just worked out well, formalities being one of them. Drawn out of her thoughts of etiquette by the sound of a familiar voice greeting Burd, her ever-loyal canine compatriot. The sight of Elliot's smiling face brought a smile to the Princess' own face as he turned his attention from Burd to her.

"Ah, my fair Princess, finally awake I see! You're lucky you have such loyal guards as me and Burd!" He teased, standing to greet her properly. The Princess chuckled, but rolled her eyes all the same.

"I can take care of myself, you know." She replied, hands on her hips, her tone playful.

"Oh really? I don't think I'm convinced... Perhaps you can prove your qualification." He continued, the same jovial grin on his face. The Princess really was fond of him and his antics. He had been an ally for as long as she could remember, and he had done a wonderful job of being by her side when she needed him. Though she wasn't sure if she was comfortable with calling it love, at times it certainly felt like just that. This was one of those times, as her reply was to pull him closer and grant him a soft kiss, drawn out but not so much as to be considered indecent. When she pulled away, his playful grin had been replaced by a rather silly one. It was something of a cross between shock and contentment, and quite possibly the cutest face she had ever seen him make.

"How does that suffice?" She inquired with a smirk and a chuckle. He seemed barely able to pull himself out of his daze to reply.

"That... That was quite wonderful, actually." He mumbled, blushing slightly, "Anyways, I'm guessing Jasper told you I wanted to speak with you." He added, causing the Princess to furrow her brows as the subject turned serious.

"Yes... Is something wrong?" She asked this, though she had a fairly good idea what Elliot wanted to talk about. The staff may have kept their complaints to barely audible whispers, the Princess had still been hearing murmurs of discontent. Logan's policies had taken on a more... _'Radical' _edge lately, and many of the citizens of Albion were having mutinous thoughts because of such. Even one as detached as herself could tell it wasn't going to end well one way or another.

"Well, things have been tense around here. More so than usual, that is. The castle staff aren't terribly pleased with your brother right now, and I told them you'd come and speak with them. Oh, Walter will be there to cheer you on as well." Though she did love Elliot, and though she did want to help improve conditions as best she could, the fact that he had enlisted her for this task without her consent irked her slightly. She was not fond of having her decisions made for her, hence why she was herself displeased with her brother. Though she did not have to suffer the tragedy of poverty or starvation, the Princess had had little freedom in all of her life. She didn't like people exacerbating that fact.

"Yes, of course." She replied cheerily, despite her feelings on the matter, "I'll do whatever I can to ensure the people's minds are at ease."

"Excellent. Well then, my fair Princess, will you take my hand so we can be off?" He inquired with a bow, extending his hand towards her. Her smile returning, the Princess accepted the offered hand and walked with her lover through the gardens, en route to the kitchen where the staff gathered. Her attention was briefly drawn to a haggard looking chicken, who wearily stumbled it's way out of the kitchen, but then was forced to turn her attention to the gathered staff members. All of them, Elliot included, watched her expectantly. Though she wasn't sure exactly what she was going to say, those stares encouraged her to launch into an impromptu speech.

"I know you have all been feeling a bit neglected as of late. My brother has been too... _Preoccupied_ with other matters that you've been overlooked. Rest assured, I will speak with him and work towards your benefit. Thank you." She thought the speech sounded below par of what was expected of her, but the staff seemed happy as they applauded her words. She smiled warmly at the gathered staff before turning to Walter, the man in charge of her combat training as well as a dear friend.

"You call _that_ a royal speech? There were no harsh words, no lecture; you were far too soft! ...It was bloody brilliant." The aged man chuckled, "It seems you have a talent for this, Princess." This caused her to chuckle.

"A single speech does not mean I have a 'talent' for it, Walter." Sh replied with a wide grin, the troubles forgotten for a moment. The Princess loved Walter in the way one loves a father, as her own father died before she even had a chance to remember him. Walter was always there, and her mother had even put her faith in him. Good friends like him were few and far between.

"Ah, just wait; you'll prove yourself wrong. Anyways, it's time for your combat training. You ready?" Most wouldn't have thought that a portly old man would have been able to fight properly, let alone train someone properly, but Walter was one of the best soldiers, his growing age proof of such.

"Okay. I'll see you later, Elliot." The Princess replied as she began to trail behind Walter on their way to the training room. Elliot bade his farewell, and proceeded to disappear from view as Walter and the Princess made their way up the stairs. Yes, things truly seemed to be normal, if not wonderful, that morning. It's amazing how quickly things could change.

On the way to the training room, Walter spoke of the rumors that had been circulating as of late, that they were true, and how everyone was more than a little unhappy with Logan. He said things that, should Logan have heard them, would have likely gotten Walter charged with treason and likely executed like the factory worker had been. It made the Princess nervous to hear Walter talk like that, as his death would be the greatest of tragedies. She was happy to be drawn out of her depressing thoughts by the sound a group of protests ringing out through the spacious room. Behind a barrier of crimson velvet ropes, there stood a gathering of, by the looks of their clothing, commoners demanding the King hear their complaints. The Princess knew they'd likely not get past the velvet barrier, made effective by the four armed guards. She wished their voices could have been heard, but Logan... Had changed.

"Walter!" One of the protesters called out as they approached, "What a stroke of luck! We're gathering signatures to get the King to help those in poverty. I'm sure your signature would make all the difference." The Princess knew this to be false, but also knew that these people had little else to hope for.

"Well, sure, but I don't think my signature's going to make much of a difference. The Princess', on the other hand, will likely be far more effective." He glanced at her, informing her that she should reply. Again, there was the slightest twinge of displeasure at being enlisted for something she hadn't signed up for, but with a small smile, the Princess replied.

"Of course; I'd be happy to sign." She then proceeded to sign her name on the paper presented to her. She knew that it likely wouldn't matter if her name showed up on a harmless petition, and Walter confirmed her thoughts shortly after they left the earshot of the petitioners. He didn't have to tell her for her to know her brother wouldn't pay even the barest of attention to the collective plea, and she doubted he'd even look at it long enough to notice her signature. She briefly wondered if she was a pessimist, as her thoughts seemed to indicate so, but shrugged it off. She wasn't a pessimist, she was a realist. When looking at the 'half full/half empty cup' example, she simply saw a half cup of water. Realism really wasn't all it was cut out to be...

The Princess barely had time to pull herself out of her musings to hear Walter instruct her to arm herself. She nodded and examined the weapons rack, though there seemed little point to it. The rack was filled with the standard issue swords found in the hands of all guards and soldiers, so there was no choice but to pick up the healthiest looking blade and turn towards Walter. As she was turning, she saw his approach. It was surprisingly fast considering his size, and the Princess barely managed to raise her own weapon in defense. The impact travelled up her arm, knocking her back slightly, but before Walter could bring down his sword for a second attack, she used the stumble to her advantage, turning it into a backwards roll. Walter's blade hit the ground with a resounding 'CLANG', and the Princess took the first advantage she saw to lunge. Her sword was deflected with ease, but she continued pushing the assault. She was blocked again and again, but it wasn't a matter of hitting him, it was simply a chance to put her training and strength to the test.

"Do you remember the stories I used to tell you when you were young?" He inquired, thrusting his sword towards her only to have it smacked away with her own, "The stories about your mother, the great Hero Queen, and her adventures? And, after each story, you'd say..."

"Teach me to be a Hero!" The Princess replied, swinging particularly hard at Walter, though it did little better than her previous attacks.

"Every bloody time." Walter chuckled, "I wish that was something I could teach you, but I've done my best. Now you need to do your best! Hit me with everything you've got! Come on!"

With a look that could only be described as pure determination, the Princess threw everything had into the one strike that Walter seemed so eager to see. She swiped downwards, hearing the two weapons collide and see the sparks fly. As the sparks appeared, she turned her head to shield herself from the sudden brightness, but immediately realized that even a minor break in concentration could lead to her death in a real battle, and her expression mirrored this personal defeat. Walter, on the other hand, couldn't have been more pleased with the results.

"You only went and broke it!" He cried, holding up what was left of his weapon for her to see, "I'd have to say I'm a bloody good teacher, eh?" Walter's excited laughter was rather contagious, and brought a chuckle of triumph from the Princess. She was more than a little pleased to see that her slip-up wouldn't have gotten her killed, as her enemy would have been unarmed, even if only temporarily. On the topic of 'temporary', it seemed that this brief moment of joy was also temporary, as Elliot burst through the doors to the training room with a look of distress.

"Walter, Princess! Both of you need to come quickly! There's something going on outside the castle! It looks like a demonstration!" Elliot cried, beckoning them to follow as he dashed back down the corridor he had come from only seconds before. After exchanging a quick glance, she and Walter dashed after him, fearing for the worst. It looked their fears were correct as they peered out the window upon the mob that was beginning to cause a ruckus. As Walter had put it; this couldn't end well. Walter left hastily, saying he was going to try and reason with Logan, which the Princess thought was another thing that couldn't end well. Of course, it just wasn't a bad day without multiple things with impossible odds of ending well, so naturally Elliot had to present his own bad idea.

"We should go see what they're talking about." He suggested, glancing around, "Look, the guards aren't by the stairs anymore! Let's go before anyone notices." And before the Princess could tell him otherwise, he began up the stairs. She was left with the choice of following Elliot to spy on Walter and her brother, or standing here and watching the crowd get more and more excited. She chose the former and chased after Elliot, wondering how this day could possibly get any worse. She was amazed to find that they were able to make it to the war room without getting seen, though she guessed it was because of the small riot outside.

Elliot was already looking through one of the keyholes, and he gestured for her to follow his example. Sighing, the Princess knew this was too far gone to simply walk away from now, so she leaned down and peered through the tiny hole. She was greeted with the sight of Logan, Walter, and two of Logan's 'special' soldiers. The Princess barely remembered how she had gotten to this point as she watched, everything having happened so rapidly. She had barely been awake an hour, and yet she already had so many issues put before her. This, however, seemed the most prevalent event yet.

"Shoot to kill; start with the leaders and continue if the crowd if necessary." The Princess heard Logan order the soldiers standing on either side of him.

"Logan, you can't-!" Walter's plea was cut short when one of the purple-clad soldiers hit the back of him knee with the butt of his rifle.

"Do not presume to tell me what I can and can't do." Logan replied icily. Elliot pulled away from the keyhole, looking horrified. He turned to the Princess, his thoughts clearly displayed on his face. She knew what he was going to say before he said it, and agreed with him to no end.

"You have to get in there! You can't let him do this!" Elliot whispered, and the Princess nodded. Taking a deep breath, she turned back towards the door and stared at the door handle. It almost felt like it was mocking her, telling her not to open it, but reminding her that she _had_ to open it. Pushing past her own discomfort, she threw the door open with a certain amount of unintended dramatic flair. She glared hard at her elder brother, disgusted he would be so cold.

"What are you doing here? The war room is no place for a child." Even when speaking directly to her, he seemed so far detached. She continued to glare, letting him know she meant business.

"I'm not a child, and I can't let you do this. You can't kill all those people." She replied heatedly, her stomach twisting and being generally unsettled. She never enjoyed confronting her brother, as he was King; he had power. She had little more say than the rest of the kingdom, despite her blood relation to him.

"You betray me as well?" He asked incredulously, his ever-present frown on his face, "Perhaps you think it should be you ruling Albion?" It was a rhetorical question, but the Princess still snarled a reply.

"I never said that, Logan, nor did I imply it. Killing those people won't make Albion's collective discontent better; it will worsen it." She snapped, a smoldering glare aimed directly at him. How could he come to such short-sighted decisions? How could he not know it would only end in tragedy for all sides? It was sickening.

"Since it is clear that you feel you are better equipped to make these choices, I will let you." Was his answer, absolutely baffling the Princess. He was reading far too much into her defense of the innocent. "Bring my sister and her friend to the throne room; we will settle this matter there." He added to one of the soldiers, dismissing everyone with a wave of his hand. The knot in the Princess' stomach worsened as she was none-too-gently dragged away. She sought some form of comfort in Elliot, clutching his hand as if her life depended on in. She knew her brother had changed quite a bit, enough so that people called him mad, but she hadn't realized just how far gone he had become. It scared her, as she didn't know what he was planning. She did know, however, that whatever it was, it wasn't going to be pleasant. His tone alone had told her that much. As they were pushed into the throne room, Elliot was shoved particularly hard by the soldier nearest to him. He fell to the floor with a '_thud_', and lay there for a moment, dazed. Glaring at the insolent man whom had dared treat her best friend in such a manner, the Princess bent over to help him back to his feet.

"Leave him alone. I may not be your ruler, but I am still your Princess, and I won't stand for such brutish behavior." She snapped, though she was only replied by the renewed insistence she keep moving. Not bother to stifle her grunt of displeasure, the Princess continued walking, holding Elliot closer now.

"What do you think Logan will do?" Elliot whispered, glancing around nervously.

"I don't know..." She replied, anger again replaced by fear. Fear of not knowing, fear of being helpless, fear of her brother. She felt an all-encompassing fear as she approached the throne where Logan sat, looking a haughty as ever. There were three villagers standing to the right, kept in place by more of the damnable soldiers that Logan favored so much. They looked more frightened than the Princess could ever comprehend, as their lives very likely depended on this gathering. It was because of this that she banished her fear from her thoughts, putting on a defiant expression. If Logan intended to scare her into conformity, as he was doing to all of Albion, he was sorely mistaken. With poise and grace only attainable by one who had been forced to practice it her entire life, the Princess released her hold on Elliot and approached her brother, who stared down at her with cold, uncaring eyes.

"You choose to defend these traitors, and now you shall have your chance. You will choose who will be punished; these strangers, or this boy." He pointed to Elliot, causing the Princess to intensify her glare, "The punishment will be death. Now choose." Her narrowed eyes shot open as wide as they could, as she stared hard at Logan, waiting for some sign that this was a joke. When there was no sign, the Princess sputtered out a reply.

"Y-you can't do this! I won't choose!" She cried, now realizing just how mad Logan truly was. The old Logan would never have presented her with such a horrible choice. She felt well and truly helpless under her brother's apathetic gaze.

"If you can't, I will." He stated calmly before looking towards the guards, "Kill them all." The Princess' jaw dropped.

She couldn't let him do this; they couldn't _all_ die simply because she couldn't choose between three innocent people and the boy she loved. Elliot felt the same, begging her to choose him and let the others live. Her mind swam, the choice she had to make like a dagger in her heart. One thought stood out among the rest; Logan would suffer for this. It didn't help her make the decision, but it made her icy enough to break out of her stupor. She glanced at the cowering civilians, and then at Elliot, her mind still buzzing. She let out a shaky breath and replied, each word heavier and harder to utter than the last.

"Let the civilians go free..."

She was too numb to register much of what happened afterwards. She had eyes only for Elliot, who had a crushing fear in his eyes. She couldn't hear the thanks of the people she had spared, as they had cost her something dear to her. She had made the right choice morally, but... Doing the right thing was painful in ways unimaginable.

"Take him away; kill him now." Logan ordered before turning his attention back to his sister, who refused to tear her eyes off of Elliot as he was dragged away, "Now you have had a taste of some of the choices I must make, sister." Rage welled up inside of the young woman as she raised teary angry eyes to the man who called himself 'King'. Never before had she truly felt hate, and now it was eating at her insides, causing her to shake uncontrollably.

"_Don't_" she hissed, "call me 'sister'. You are no brother of mine; just a bastard with a crown." She wanted to attack him, she wanted to fall to the ground and dry, she wanted to do so much all because of the mixed feelings of hate and sorrow. She was overwhelmed with those two emotions she could barely control what she said. "You _will_ pay for this, Logan. Mark my words, you will pay for this." And with that she left the throne room at a quick stride. Ignoring the concerned looks she recieved from the castle staff, she dashed towards her room as soon as she was out of Logan's line of sight. She closed the door and fell to the floor, sobbing heavily. She cried so hard she thought she would die of the sorrow that assaulted her. She was barely aware when she stood up, still sobbing, and launching attack after attack on harmless inanimate objects. Anything she could get her hands on, she destroyed out of pure rage.

And then she heard the shots.

A scream erupted from her, a cry of unhampered lament. She had read about such dramatic happenings, and had dismissed them as the fanciful occurances only present in stories, and yet here she was, a scream of raw emotion tearing through her throat, as she was hit with the feeling of profound loss. Yes, today was the worst kind of day.


	2. The First Steps to Rebellion

Disclaimer: I own nothing Fable, not the Princess/Hero/Queen, Albion, or the wonderfully delightful Reaver. It's just for fun, and we do so love fun. =P

Author's Note: So, by the time I was nearly done this chapter, I decided that I'm going to abandon keeping the canon dialogue as close as I could to what is actually said in the game. It felt entirely too stiff writing in that style, and it was, in short, no es bueno. Instead, I will simply opt to keep the canon characters as IC as I possibly can while using the canon script when it serves my purposes. On another note, I'd like to thank Piraticaly-Insane for the lovely comment; it made my day when I saw it. =P In any case, I hope everyone enjoys the second chapter.

* * *

It had been nearly a week since Walter had hurried her out of the castle, along with her butler, Jasper. The pain was still fresh, and caused and occasional unpleasant twinge in her chest whenever she thought of it. But an opportunity for revenge had presented itself, and the Princess was going to grab that opportunity, no matter how small and far away it may have been. Walter seemed all to eager to put her on the throne, and she was all to eager to go along with his plan. And what a plan he had... Well, actually, there wasn't much of a plan, yet. Right now all the Princess knew of the so-called 'plan' was that she needed to enlist a man named Sabine's help in the upcoming revolution. Sabine was the leader of the Dwellers, Walter had explained, and the Dwellers had been treated particularly poorly by the King. They were quite eager to join the cause... Provided that they receive a few favors. Three particularly small favors, she just had to fetch her mother's relic from a tomb, eradicate a band of mercenaries, as well as convince the whole of Brightwall to send relief up to the Dweller Camp. Easy.

Getting the relic had proved more dangerous than it seemed at first glance, although she really should have known better than to think it was safe to waltz into a place her mother had designed to house one of her most important artifacts. Though she hadn't known exactly what she had been looking for when she entered the reliquary, when she saw the music box it was fairly obvious. Her mother had spoken of it in her stories, how it was that very music box that had changed her life. The fact that she had to fight hordes of the undead to get there was forgotten when she had picked up the object. Never had she thought she would see it, let alone hold it. Then she was hit with a sense of loss as she realized she'd have to give it to Sabine upon her return. She did, however, realize that such sentiments were pointless in the face of her larger goal. Surely her mother would have understood.

Her second task was far trickier than the first, as mercenaries proved harder to kill than shambling, brittle corpses. Waves of the bastards had been thrown at her, standing alone against them all save for Burd's companionship. The Princess had learned that he was rather skilled at tearing out the throats of fallen enemies, which proved to a rather odd sort of blessing. Never before she had left the castle would she have been happy to have her dog perform such brutal acts, but one less enemy was always nice. After more fighting and death than the Princess had ever dealt with, she reached where Saker, the man she was instructed to bring down, waited. The fight was rather one-sided, because although Saker had said he would be the one fighting, other men jumped down in the pit to lend their attack power. The physical stress nearly caused her to make a fatal mistake more than once, and the various gashes on her body were a testament to this. However, when the dust settled, the Princess was the one who towered over the fallen mercenary, point of her blade barely touching his throat. She didn't kill him, however, as he promised to leave the Dwellers be. Whether or not he kept the promise was up to him, but if he broke it, she informed him, she would have no qualms about hunting him down and killing him as she was supposed to from the beginning.

Her final assignment was far less of a problem than the first two, but it did prove to be quite tedious. Samuel, (the man who was in charge of the closed down academy), suggested that if she was well-known the people of Brightwall would be more willing to spare some supplies to the Dwellers. After saving a child who had wandered into the mountains, helping a strange man bring life to a mob of garden gnomes, and getting sucked into a book containing plays by some Morley fellow, the Princess was finally beginning to make a name for herself. Enough of a name that people were willing to listen to her request to aid the Dweller Camp. She decided on a break, though, feeling like she was about to fall apart, literally. While healing potions did a grand job of ridding her of wounds, it didn't alleviate the stress and exhaustion of what she had just done, and she felt she could go for a well-earned rest. The thought of drinking entered her mind, but she shook it off, remembering she would have to leave early the next morning. There was little point in getting drunk if the next day you were likely to enter combat... Again.

When her mother had told her stories of her days as a Hero, she had conveniently left out the bit about the crushing tiredness. The Princess then considered the fact that her mother had even said that for nearly ten years she had dedicated every waking minute to training for her battle against the evil Lucien. The Princess, on the other hand, had been raised in a plush and lavish lifestyle, and had no need for such intense training. Sure, Walter had been training her before they left the castle, but that was for only about an hour a day, and it certainly hadn't been ten years since her training began. Such thoughts depressed the Princess, as she felt with her inadequate training she could never live up to her mother's reputation. These thoughts were banished, as so many had been lately, as she walked up the inn's stairs to her purchased room. The moment her head hit the rough pillow she fell asleep, though it felt more like a coma.

* * *

The Princess awoke the following morning feeling groggier than she had in her entire life. While her sleep had been unbroken, the poor condition of the bed she slept on left her rather stiff after all those hours of lying upon it. She already missed the cushy bed she had left behind, along with all the other little perks of being royalty. If only she hadn't taken those luxuries for granted... No one really recognized her this far from the castle, so she was given no bonuses by the people. She doubted she'd have got them anyways, given everyone's disposition towards the crown at the moment. Sabine had expressed what everyone else likely thought; she was related to Logan, so she's probably as ruthless as him as well. While it was a misguided statement, she understood why they would feel that way. They had no reason to trust her... Yet, that is. Walter's plan would certainly make her, as well as her opposition of Logan, very well-known indeed. She could only hope the plan worked.

After grabbing a quick bite downstairs, the Princess readied to travel up the mountain to the Dweller Camp. It was still early morning, and the sun had only just managed to clear mountains. Other than being so tired she felt like she could sleep for a year, it seemed as though the trip up the mountain wasn't going to be too terribly terrible. There was the small issue of the wolves that liked to roam the mountains in force, but compared to the living dead and heavily armed mercenaries, wolves were nearly as harmless as bunnies, even when in a pack. In fact, it seemed the only major problem she would encounter on her walk was the bitter cold of the lofty peaks. Why anyone would want to live in such a climate was beyond her. She preferred the more temperate weather of the coast which Bowerstone sat upon, and was once again sad she had taken that lovely weather for granted. The thought of being able to return to Bowerstone fueling her, the Princess' strides were long as she travelled the steep path leading up into the frozen Mistpeak Mountains.

The journey was about as quick as a trek up a mountain could be, and she was quite pleasantly surprised when she was unhindered by any form of attack, be it men or monster doing the attacking. She could smell the smoke of campfires long before she could see the gates to the camp, causing her to break into a jog. She was eager to see Walter again, and also eager to see the look on Sabine's face when he realized she had done everything he'd asked. He had made it abundantly clear that he expected her to fail in at least one of the tasks, if not all of them. Which seemed rather silly, because if she had failed, they'd still be without the food that was sent off only yesterday. Still, she was eager to see his reaction.

Inside of the camp, she was greeted with the cheers of the contented Dwellers, whom were now able to eat well thanks wholly to her actions. There was a certain amount of satisfaction knowing she had helped these people enough that they would cheer when they saw her. She did, however, save them from starvation and death by rogue mercenaries, so their thankfulness was to be expected. As she walked towards where Sabine waited she wore a large beaming grin on her face, the Dwellers' excitement rubbing off on her. It was an exquisite feeling, one she could quite easily get used to. Still grinning like a fool, the Princess withdrew the music box as she approached where Sabine sat.

"And so the triumphant hero returns, bringing good tidings... And supper." Sabine wore an equally large grin, his wrinkled face looking considerably younger now that the majority of his stress had been alleviated. Still smiling, the Princess handed the old man her mother's prized possession. After it was in his hands, he fiddled with it, shook it, and basically tried his damnedest to get it working. "Damn thing doesn't open. Ah well, never thought you'd actually get it, anyways." He commented with a chuckle.

"I told you I would." She replied teasingly, exchanging glances with Walter, who looked like he was fit to burst with pride. Yes, it was such a nice feeling helping people, especially when they needed it most.

"That you did; we'll be more than happy to have you lead us into battle... Provided you make a promise to us here and now; restore our mountains to their former glory. Return control of our mountains to us, and we'll gladly follow you into battle." Sabine explained, his expression one of fierce pride.

"You have my word, Sabine." The Princess replied with a brisk nod, extending her hand towards the aged leader. As if sealing the deal with a single handshake, Sabine's expression turned wickedly mischievous.

"Alright, then let us storm the gates and bring ruination on-!" Sabine's exclamation was cut short by Walter, who rolled his eyes at the hastiness.

"We can't rush into battle yet, we've still not enough support to take on an entire bloody army." Walter explained in an attempt to placate the old man.

"Ah, I was afraid you'd come off all sensible like." Sabine chuckled, "Well, when the time for battles arrives, you know where we are. You'd better send for us, too; you're not leaving us out of this battle."

I wouldn't dream of it, old friend. Walter took his turn to chuckle before he looked to the Princess, We'd best be off, then. We'll be taking the Mistpeak Monorail to Bowerstone; there are some people I think might just join us.

After a brief farewell to Sabine, Walter and the Princess set out for the monorail station. On their way, Walter asked of what the Princess had faced trying to complete Sabine's tasks, not satisfied when she skirted over the details. He wanted to know how many mercenaries she had killed, what trials awaited inside the reliquary, and any other little detail he could think of that she had already told him. While a bit tedious, the Princess enjoyed it. And, as an added bonus, it helped pass the time it took for them to get from the Dweller Camp to the Monorail station. The Princess had never been on the monorail, but she'd certainly heard of it. While she was excited to try something new, Walter seemed less than pleased with their travel arrangements. He muttered his complaint about the tiny metal box being dangled up in the air like that. His complaints, however, were cut short by a rather ghastly sound of metal grating on metal. Everyone who had been awaiting the arrival of the monorail car turned their attention the source of the sound; the very monorail car the were waiting for. There was a horrible moment when everyone was silent right before another grating noise as part of the car disconnected from the tracks. There were a few screams of those watching, and if the people inside the box were screaming, it couldn't be heard. After another sickening moment of watching the car dangle there by the barest amount, it finally plummeted, it's impact with the cavern ground shook the platform, and more screams were heard from the onlookers.

"Bloody hell, we've got to get down there!" Walter cried, dashing towards the metal gate that barred the monorail goers from the restricted area. The Princess watched as he threw all of his strength into prying open the gate, obviously anxious to get down to any possible survivors. Looking down at the smoke rising from the fallen car, the Princess seriously doubted anyone had survived that fall. That didn't stop her from wanting to get down there, though, just in case. She did, however get the feeling that whether there were survivors or not, they'd find something alive down there; that seemed to be a recurring fact, given that she had barely been out of the castle for a week. There was always _something_ waiting to rip her to shreds. It was really quite unpleasant.

Walter finally managed to pry the gate open, and the two of them wasted no time dashing for the lift. As they entered the small box, Walter again muttered his complaints about the small space, but they were quickly done with the short ride down, giving Walter the opportunity to step out into the more spacious area at the bottom of the cavern. They again dashed, this time towards the wreckage. The closer they got, the more noticeable the sound of high-pitched growls was. As they turned the corner, they were greeted by a terrible sight. Corpses lay sprawled around the destroyed car, flames devouring anything that would burn, and the source of the growls was revealed. Foul little monsters with the discolored skin tone of a corpse, though they were very much alive. Hobbes. Vile creatures, if ever she'd seen one.

The small ones with the corpse-colored skin proved rather easy to dispatch, but as she and Walter pushed forward through the hordes of grotesquely child-like beings they encountered larger versions of those first few she had seen. Each size of Hobbe seemed to have a different color skin, and as she thrust her sword through the sickeningly soft body of one of the little blighters she wondered what relevance their size and skin color had, other than indicating which were stronger. One could only wonder if they had any sort of societal structure, but given their animalisticbehavior she highly doubted that was the case. The little bastards didn't seem like the type to think of something like that. She had, of course, heard the stories about Hobbes, that they were previously children and whatnot, but that didn't stop her from sending one after another to the grave. It hadn't even halted her, as terrible as it sounded. Though she knew that they were once children, the thought that they would readily kill and eat her as well as the fact that no child would want to live this way made any qualms about killing them quickly dissipate. The only mercy she could allow them was a swift death, which she delivered again and again.

The stream of Hobbes felt endless as they fought their way further into the cavern, both forging a path to their next destination as well as attempting to make future treks on the monorail safe, supposing they didn't close it down after this little incident. Not too many people would be keen on riding such a contraption after hearing the story of how the car plummeted to the cavern's ground, killing all inside. Whether or not the Hobbes were all dead, people rarely trust something that was subject to such an 'accident'. Pity, she had wanted to ride the monorail too. There was nothing to be done about that now, however, and their only option was to continue pressing the attack, felling Hobbe after Hobbe. While fighting, there was little room for thought, but the Princess apparently managed, as she absently thought about how terrible these little creatures smelled. Obviously at some point during the transformation from child to Hobbethey completely forgotten how to bathe oneself. Although, it was possible the smell was originating from the many corpses strewn about and hung from the walls. Where ever the stench came from, in any case, it was the most disgusting one she had encountered in all her life.

And just as suddenly as they had came, the enemies were gone, now lain out in a bloody trail. Breathing heavily, the Princess looked to Walter, who looked equally tired from the strenuous task of killing a small army of Hobbes. She couldn't wait to be out of this damnable place and get a nice big breath of fresh air. While the stagnant, foul-smelling air down here worked to keep her from suffocating, she was beginning to wonder if suffocating would be better than the scent she was forced to endure. It was the very reason why she didn't suggest they stop and take a quick breather. The sooner they were out of this place the better.

* * *

As it turned out, the small army they had fought wasn't the last of the Hobbes, as they were 'greeted' by many more once they had entered a part of the cavern riddled with ancient architecture, far beyond the construction capabilities of a Hobbe's. They never did find out exactly what the strange area was, but they had found out that Hobbe's enjoy entertainment as much as the next person, as they had arranged a sort of gladiator-esque battle against the undead Hobbe's raised by the Summoner Hobbes. By the time they had reached the exit to the underground cavern, the Princess would have been the happiest person alive if she never saw another Hobbe in her entire lifetime. She was, however, rather disappointed when she saw the area they emerged in.

A swamp, complete with swarms of bloodsucking insects, a humid climate, foul smells, and graves. It wasn't the most welcoming of sights, and the smell was only a little better here than it had been in the cavern. She was too tired for this, honestly. After a brief walk with a little small talk, the muggy air making every step seem far more bothersome than it really should have been, the Princess was nearly ecstatic to see human activity, even if that activity included a rifle pointed in their direction.

"Halt! Be you men, or Hollow Men?" The man holding the rifle called out. The Princess raised an eyebrow. Did they look like decrepit corpses? Admittedly, they did look a little worse for wear after their little foray through the Hobbe cavern, but they still looked far from mobile skeletons.

"Have you gone daft, boy? Open up the doors!" Walter shouted up the the armed soldier, his tone ever-so-slightly annoyed.

"Walter? Is that you?" The man inquired, lowering his gun.

"The very same. Now, are you going to let us in?" Walter inquired, beginning to tap his foot impatiently.

"Oh, yes, of course. Right away." The man replied somewhat nervously, "Open the gates! Tell Major Swift that Walter's here!" He shouted over his shoulder to some unknown recipient. The gates swung wide, revealing a relatively small force of soldiers, all looking rather haggard to say the least. Many were sporting bandages, and all of them had clothing stained with blood. That, paired with the multiple graves near the wall of the fort, gave the distinct impression that they had survived a battle rather recently. The Princess could already tell her stay here was going to be... _Entertaining _at the very least. As she and Walter proceeded inside the fort, they were greeted by two men who were clearly set apart from the others, as neither wore same uniform as the others and also neither of them seemed to have any significant wounds.

"Major Swift! It's good to see you, old friend!" Walter exclaimed, exchanging a brisk handshake with the Major. The Princess stood a little ways behind Walter, feeling a tad out of place. As if sensing her feelings, Burd trotted over to her and bumped his nose against her hand until she paid him attention. She couldn't help but smile at his affectionate behavior. He really was a suck-up sometimes... Which made it all the harder to believe he had torn out the throats of countless enemies whom had the misfortune of being knocked down long enough for him to pounce. How this sweet, loving dog was the same as the one who had committed such brutal acts was beyond her.

"Walter, it's good to see you as well. Though I must ask; what brings you to our particularly dangerous neck of the woods? You hardly seem to be out on a stroll." Major Swift replied, replacing the hand he had used to greet Walter back on his hip. The stance looked oddly flamboyant in the Princess' mind, but she simply shrugged the thought off as completely inane. How a man, or woman, stood held only the barest scrap of information on the person, save for how they perceived themselves. His stance told her he was proud, but not to the point of vanity. Any attempt at vanity would have been quickly dashed, in any case, as the uniforms worn by all of the soldiers looked stained and bloodied. It was hard to make the post-battle look good.

"Ah, yes, I was actually hoping to ask you something." Walter replied, his tone turned serious.

"Bollocks; and here I was hoping you'd come to save of from the hordes of the undead." The other man, whom had yet to be introduced, muttered. He, along with Major Swift, stood out among the other soldiers. Not because they wore different uniforms than the others, and it wasn't because they carried higher ranks than the others. Both seemed to have an air about them, though the Princess couldn't place it for the life of her. Pride, maybe? No, it was confidence. That had to be it.

"Ben Finn." Walter grinned, turning towards the man in question, "Still alive, I see. How are you doing these days?"

"Did you not hear when I said 'hordes of the undead'?" Ben inquired, voice laced with sarcasm, "Yeah, things are ducky."

"Logan just loves to send you lot on the best assignments, hm?" Walter commented, adding in a touch of his own sarcasm, "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

"I was wondering why she looked so familiar." Major Swift replied, nodding his head towards the Princess. Unsure of what else to do or say, she simply nodded in his direction in a form of greeting.

Now that the attention had been focused towards her, and all three of them were looking in her direction, she felt even more out of place and awkward. Being royalty didn't necessarily mean her people skills were what you'd call sharp. She was a Princess, not a Queen, and hence not required to make public announcements. While she had managed well enough for her speech directed towards the castle staff on the day she had fled, she lumped that into the category labeled 'Flukes'. Whether or not it actually was a fluke was up for debate, but she felt it was.

"Yes, I'll explain why the Princess is all the way out here later. Just treat her like any other soldier for now." It irked her to hear her help being enlisted yet again, but she set it aside in favor of the thought that more important things were going on yet again. Along with the crushing exhaustion, her mother had also failed to mention also meant putting aside your personal beliefs in the favor of the greater good. Maybe that one was just supposed to be implied. Still, it would have been nice to know before hand... Although, the Princess doubted her mother had even thought she'd turn out to be a Hero. She hadn't exactly exhibited any signs of such before only just recently. Even now she occasionally had doubts about herself. Her mother hadn't needed magical gauntlets to enable her to use spells; she had been able to use them all on her own. How was she expected to live up to someone like that? Luckily, she was drawn out of such depressing thoughts by Major Swift.

"Very well. Follow Captain Finn here up to the wall; we could use another person on the mortars for when those bastards come back tonight." He said, finally directing his words about her towards her. She stood there for a moment, rooted to the spot, staring at the Major in disbelief. He expected her, a princess who had led a sheltered life up until a week ago, to operate something like a _mortar_? Was the man daft? Surely he had to be to issue such an order. Apparently her thoughts were well displayed, as the assembled men all chuckled at her expression.

"Go on, Princess; it's really not as difficult as you think." Walter urged, still chuckling ever so slightly. She wasn't convinced, and her face said as much, but all the same nodded. Another wave of chuckles. She frowned. After a few more moments, Ben gestured for her to follow. She did, of course, casting one more glance back at Walter that all but flat out said 'What the hell are you thinking?'

When up on the wall, Ben introduced her to a fellow called 'Jammy', who, according to Captain Finn, 'was so called because he's the luckiest sod in the fort.' Jammy was a strange man, and appeared to be barely held together based on the amount of wounds he so proudly informed her of. As Ben and Jammy spoke rather briefly, Ben explaining why she was up there, the Princess took her time to warily eye up the mortar she was expected to use. Swords and guns were one thing, but this was a true weapon of war. Even just it's appearance was brutish. Certainly not something you'd see a princess using,and yet here she was, being told to do exactly that.

After a couple of shots, the Princess realized that Walter had been right, and that there was little talent needed for using a mortar. She was still pleased with herself for pulling it off, though. Still, being pleased with oneself doesn't help being so tired you could fall asleep at any given moment, so she asked Captain Finn if there was time for her to take a nap. He pondered it for a moment, glanced upwards, and then replied.

"Yeah, sure. Shouldn't be a problem, there's still a little while before sundown yet. I'll get you up before then." And after saying a quick thanks, the Princess retreated to a more secluded area and made a makeshift bed for herself. As soon as her head hit the 'pillow', (I use the term loosely, as she had simply bundled up a jacket she had found lying near by), she fell into a dreamless slumber. It felt entirely too short, as in her mind the moment she closed her eyes she was being shaken awake. She tried to shoo them away at first, forgetting where she was, but eventually she was awoken completely.

The Hollow Men were here.


	3. Recruiting Albion's Finest

Disclaimer: I own nothing Fable, not the Princess/Hero/Queen, Albion, or the wonderfully delightful Reaver. It's just for fun, and we do so love fun. =P

Author's Note: Well, I won't go into details, but I will say that I've had a rather rough go of things for the past two months or so. In any case, Many apologies for the lateness of this chapter, and here's hoping I'll be more on the ball from here on out. To Piratically-Insane, I thankee kindly for the continued support; it was awesome to see that at least one person is enjoying my attempt at a story. To Savana Night... I must say I quite disagree. Just knowing what Elliot does after you ensure his survival, and the fact that he acts more like a woman than the Princess does (in my opinion, anyways), boils my blood. I feel that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Anyways! On with the story, at long last!

* * *

The struggle lasted all through the night, victory only coming once the sun had began it's ascent. While blowing the Hollow Men up with the mortar she had very quickly come to love was easy enough, it wasn't enough to stop them from breaking down the gates and forcing the defenders into close-contact combat. The ground was drenched in blood by the end, which was particularly horrible, as Hollow Men don't bleed. It seemed like the waves would never end, as the moment you'd strike one down, several more would spring up from the ground, ready to take the first's place. It was pure carnage. And, of course, just when it seemed like the battle was done, one more wave rose, with a former soldier of the living group, a lieutenant no less. Never before had the Princess seen such death, nor had she ever put such a strain on her body. After the last Hollow Man fell, the sun now visible, she literally dropped to the ground and lay there trying to catch her breath. She could feel the dampness of her allies blood in the soil she was on top of, but was too far gone to care. It was then that she was able to take in exactly what had happened, as things had moved so quickly the moment she awoke that there was scarcely time to think. Jammy and several other soldiers had fallen during the battle, though even when they had died there had barely been enough time in between enemies to notice.

Burd was sitting next to her, one paw on her arm in a questioning manner. Flopping her head to the opposite side, the Princess attempted getting a better look at him. From what she could see, there were no major wounds... Or even that many minor wounds. She smiled, using some of the little remaining energy to pat him on the head. He was notoriously quick on his feet, and she was all too happy to see that he had avoided getting brutalized, despite the chaotic battleground. She was too tired to show this with anything more than a slight smile, however. They had won, while sustaining only a small amount of casualties. At least four soldiers had died during the battle, but four soldiers for swarms upon swarms of the undead was a fairly decent outcome. Though if she had a choice, she would have preferred to have been able to save the fallen soldiers, she was still in no position to complain. Things could have been worse.

"Still alive there, Princess?" She heard Walter ask, his tone joking.

"Yes. Barely. I tell you, the past twenty-four hours have been brutal! First bandits and wolves on my way to the monorail station, then hobbes of all shapes and sizes in some hole in the ground, topped of by the legions of the undead we just slaughtered." The Princess laughed, "I could use a drink."

Walter laughed along with her, offering his hand to help her off the ground. Once on her feet, the Princess tried to best of her abilities to wipe some of the grime off of herself. It wasn't working particularly well, to say the least.

"I also need a bath and fresh clothing. How far until Bowerstone?" She was just about ready to run the rest of the way to the city. Never before had she felt so utterly and disgustingly filthy. Blood and mud mixed together on her once nice clothing, and the stench of death and swamp hung around so heavily that she no doubt smelled of the foul combination as well.

"Not too far yet. The path'll take us through the cemetery, then into and past a small settlement, and from there we'll use the sewer access to get into Bowerstone Industrial. I just want to have a quick word with Swift before we toddle off, though." Walter replied, chuckling at the look of distress on her face. The Princess nodded and gestured for him to lead the way. She had been so focused on how caked in filth she was that she had almost completely forgotten that they had came here to gain the support of these disillusioned soldiers. Lucky for her, Walter was on the ball, as always. She quite honestly had no idea what she'd do without him, or Jasper, for that matter. Allies were an important asset in her eyes, and so she followed Walter to gain some more.

* * *

With a promise to Major Swift and a round brief farewells, Walter and the Princess had left the Mourningwood Fort. Bowerstone was near; you could tell from the acrid scent the factories exuded. Even up at the castle, given the proper wind direction, you could be bombarded by the dreadful smell of factory smog. The swamp was doing a fair enough job of masking it at first, (not that the swamp smelled much better than the factories), but with every step the smell grew more prominent until they found themselves in a small settlement of 'Eco-Warriors', as they called themselves. The Princess' stomach churned at the thought of living right beside the sewers, with waste spilling out into the settlement itself. Love the environment all you want, there was no way it could be pleasant living in such a place. Still, it was their choice, and the Princess didn't really care in any case, given her inclination towards hurrying for a bath. From what she could gather during her hurried trek through the small cluster of houses the people here were happy enough, so there was no reason to fret about it.

The entire walk from the Mourningwood Fort to the Eco-Warrior settlement, Walter seemed to find great amusement in the Princess' discomfort. Though Walter was a dear friend, it didn't stop her from being bloody angry at him after long. Actually, it was more accurate to say she was immensely annoyed with him. She hadn't quite reached 'angry' yet, but she was getting there. To make matters worse, Walter was also poking fun at the fact that she was 'pouting' as he had put it. The Princess very carefully told him that she wasn't 'pouting', she was '_fuming_'. She made very sure that she didn't 'flip out', so to say, as she knew she'd feel like an ass later. She was intelligent enough to realize that she was in a foul mood simply because of exhaustion, hunger, thirst, and just feeling grimy. Walter just found it funny that she was acting like typical royalty and acting finicky because of a little dirt and blood. His career choice was rarely without such, so it was understandable why he'd find it amusing. Still, that didn't make her any less ticked off.

The fetid smell of the Bowerstone Industrial sewers certainly helped to take her mind off of her own state, but it wasn't exactly what one would call an improvement. Several times the stench made her gag, though there was currently nothing in her stomach to regurgitate. If she never had to set foot in the sewers again in this lifetime it would be far too soon. Luckily, they only had to pass through a short section of the sewers before they were greeted with the seemingly perpetual gloom of Bowerstone Industrial.

The Princess had never actually been to Bowerstone Industrial, only ever having experienced it from the distant view of the castle. Never had she actually thought conditions were this bleak. How could Logan turn a blind eye to such suffering? As she looked around in shock, Walter explained a few things about the Industrial quarter. The Princess had heard much of this before, from small snippets of conversations she heard the staff having. The unofficial 'ruler' of Bowerstone was Reaver, a man of ill-repute and ruthless business tactics. It was because of him that young children worked in the factories, and that no one could let their guard down in thanks to Reaver's many thugs. Never before had the Princess seen depression running so rampant through an area. People walked the streets with slouched shoulders, eyes kept downcast. She was even beginning to feel depressed just seeing the conditions these people lived with.

Walter didn't only talk about the condition in the Industrial quarter, he also spoke of the people they were trying to find. He didn't go into much detail, and the Princess didn't prod, because a growing din had caught her attention. Up ahead what looked to be a protest was quickly forming. The Princess inwardly cringed when she thought of the last protest she had seen, and how it ended in death and pain. She, of course, always had the option of choosing not to watch this particular protest, but her morbid curiosity drew her in. She reasoned that if she was to do what Walter was helping her accomplish, she needed to know what was on the people's minds. You could best solve the problems you had witnessed and listened to.

"Reaver is exploiting us!" a man cried as they approached, "We demand better working conditions! We're workers; we're not slaves!" The Princess felt a wave of dread wash over her as she noticed the finely dressed man on the balcony behind the protesting man. Even if she hadn't already known what he looked like, it was impossible not to have known who he was. '_Reaver_' She thought as a clang rang out over the crowd, the man in question tapping his cane against the railing. The protester didn't cease his speech, however, either not hearing or ignoring Reaver's attempt to gain their collective attention. Frankly, it seemed the only one not watching to see what Reaver was going to do was the man voicing his discontent.

"Reaver treats us like animals!" Another clang over the man's complaints, which he again didn't react to, "There's only one thing for it; we have to stand up to Reaver!" This time, instead of a 'clang', there was a 'bang'. The protestor fell, wounded by the smoking pistol that had, at some point, found it's way into Reaver's hand. Finally having everyone's attention, Reaver's voice carried out across the gathering, drawling yet filled with venom.

"But lying down is _so_ much easier than _standing up_." In the crowd, a nearly inaudible whisper had began, the people beginning to form their own _very_ quiet opinions. That is, until Reaver began speaking again. "My dear friends, in order to raise moral, I am offering _prizes_ to the most deserving workers!" How he could sound so happy and yet menacing at the same time was beyond the Princess. He had just _shot_ a man! And yet there he was, the same smile plastered to his face as he gazed down patronizingly at his employees.

"The rules," He continued, "that will govern what I like to call the 'Reaver Team Spirit Award' are these; Firstly, any worker who so much as _murmurs_ another complaint will be _shot_." His sentence was punctuated with a second shot to the already wounded protestor, "Secondly, any worker who takes more than a _three-second break_ will be _shot_." He shot the man a third time, "Thirdly, any worker who breaks any other rules I have yet to formulate will, yes, you guessed it, be _shot_." He fired once more, the protestor finally slumping to the ground.

"You may return to work _now_! As you know, I'm a generous man, and likely to start handing out _prizes_ right away." The gathered people needed only see Reaver wave his pistol at the lot of them before they began dispersing, though Reaver continued shooing them away until there were none left standing there. The Princess watched as he looked around, as if looking for any stragglers loitering around despite his orders, and she could only wonder how a man becomes so... Devoid of empathy. The entire scene was all too familiar; someone was murdered for speaking their mind, for trying to get some amount of fairness for the working class. What bothered her even more, though, was the fact that Reaver had murdered a man, which was still against the law even in these blood-stained days, and the guards in the vicinity did nothing. Not Logan's Special troops, nor the regular guard lifted a finger to bring to justice the man lying in a puddle of his own blood.

Exhaling deeply, the Princess turned away from the scene, no longer being able to stomach the sight of the poor bastard whom had been gunned down only moments ago. She should have done something. She should have defended the poor sod, but was too distracted by the spectacle to even think of that at the time. She looked to Walter, a grim expression worn.

"There was nothing we could have done. We can't afford to let Logan know we're in the city again yet, and if we had attacked Reaver we would have certainly gotten noticed in a hurry. It's unfortunate, but just think; when you take Logan's throne you can get revenge for the poor sod." Walter patted her on the shoulder, and then proceeded to gesture for her to start walking.

The Princess said nothing for a moment, continuing to be introspective. After she thought about it, she huffed and nodded. "I don't want you to be right, I _want_ to go into that building see how much Reaver likes to get shot repeatedly, but, unfortunately, you _are_ right." She frowned, "This 'Hero' buisness isn't like it was advertised." The Princess chuckled humorlessly. Today was turning out quite horribly. Not only was she still in desperate need of a bath, but now she had also seen someone murdered, which was only making meeting with these people Walter was leading her towards seem all the more dismal a task. She knew that somehow it'd go wrong, and her day would end up even more gloomy.

"How much longer until we're there?" She inquired, glancing woefully at the gray sky. She couldn't tell if the gray sky was a product of the factory smog, or if it simply was bad weather. '_Probably both._' She mused, turning her attention back to the street before her. Why was it that the second she stepped out of the sewers into the Industrial quarter the colour drained from the world? She was slowly becoming convinced that this place induced depression. Or perhaps the massive amount of depression already there due to the fearful wisps of people living here was highly contagious. Again she deduced that it was likely both. With a sigh, she trudged on, walking slightly behind Walter so as to be alone to some small extent. In her gloom, she didn't notice a puddle set directly in her path until it was too late. She glanced down, noting that her boot was now splattered with... _Something_. It certainly didn't look like mud, that was for certain. Without so much as a shrug, she continued following her heavy-set mentor. '_At least there's one upside to already being caked in filth..._' She thought with a bleak chuckle.

* * *

As per the Princess' prediction, the day got worse. Upon entering the dingy sewer tunnel that Walter claimed the group they were meeting was located, the smell of Bowerstone's filth was once again overpowering. As much as she tried, she couldn't keep the stench out of her nose, and gagged several times. Walter was talking, but the Princess wasn't listening. Between the horrible feelings she still had about the death she had witnessed, and her concentration on stopping herself from smelling the sewers, she had no attention left for whatever he was saying. Upon later speculation, she guessed that's why what happened next actually happened. In her distraction, the Princess was quite shocked to find that the room they were about to enter, previously empty, was now full of ragged-looking men... And their guns, of course. With such a large number of pistols and rifles aimed at her, depression turned to fury in a seeming display of magic, and in a flash the Princess was armed with her sword in one hand, and her pistol in the other. If she'd been in a proper state of mind, she'd have been horrified at her own sudden bloodlust. In her current state of mind, several thoughts flashed through her mind, the most prominent of which was '_How __**dare**__ they point their weapons at me?' _As she was nearing the point of no return, when she would pull the trigger and fly into motion, Walter spoke.

"We won't move if you won't shoot." Were his words, and the Princess scowled darkly at her companion. In the back of her mind, she realized it was probably for the best if they avoided a fight; afterall, these were the people they had come to meet. Not a very welcoming group, in her mind.

"You'd better tell your friend that." One of the men replied, eyeing the Princess warily. '_Good,_' she thought, '_they should be afraid._'. Again, if she'd had any sense about her, she'd have realized how horrible such thoughts were, but she was far beyond caring.

"Just do as he says." Walter said cautiously. Though he was behind her, and couldn't see the furious look on her face, her anger was almost palpable. With an even darker look, the Princess reluctantly put her weapons away, eyes flitting from person to person, watching for someone to make a move. She was in quite the foul mood.

"Now," the apparent leader of the group began, "who are you and what're you doing here?" He never once lowered his weapon, much to the Princess' eternal rage. How dare he keep so many guns trained on them when she had been forced to put hers away... Not that it would take much to bring the gun back out again and put a few bullets in a few skulls. Her hand twitched next to her pistol at the thought. She stayed it, though, mindful of Walter's request. He had yet to steer her wrong yet, so there was no point doubting him now, even if she was bloody pissed off. As the Princess silently seethed, Walter gave the man his name, though he hastily avoided identifying her. Likely because she was related to the murderer she once called 'brother'. He also added that he'd like to meet with some 'Page' character. Of course, the bloody brutes didn't listen to a damn word Walter said, and the man quickly began making accusations of them being spies, and was in the process of telling the rest of them to shoot. The Princess snarled and began drawing her pistol once again, when a woman's voice cut across the tense scene.

"Put your weapons down!"

Suddenly all the guns were gone. Still looking particularly angry, the Princess again returned her pistol to it's holster. As she looked up to search out the source of the voice, a dark-skinned woman, presumably Page, entered from an ajoined room. Clearly, the young Hero had misjudged who held leadership; it was not the ugly brute who had been determined they were spies, but instead this woman, who couldn't have been much older than the Princess herself. This revelation did little to stem her discontent, though. She did, however, start calming down when she wasn't being targetted by so many firearms, but it was still a long way off from being actually calm. Page called for Walter and her to follow, (or rather, she called for Walter, and the Princess tagged along because there was no way she was staying in the same room as the men who had been so keen on putting a bullet in her), and the discussion to enlist the help of the Bowerstone Resistance began.

* * *

"How many bloody times do I have to prove myself?" The Princess shouted after they exited the sewers. It was more out of frustration than anger, and Walter could see that plainly. Again she had been saddled with the chore of proving her worth for the throne, and this time she was much less good-humored about the whole affair. Walter just smiled sympathetically at her. "It's not enough that I tromped through caves filled with scores of Hobbes, or that I fought a legion of the undead? 'No,' they say! 'We should make her do all of the chores we were going to do!' It's not bloody fair!" She whined, more ranting to herself than anything. Sighing, Walter patted her on the shoulder.

"Let's go the the tavern then, shall we? Have a nice pint, a bath, and a sleep, and I'm sure you'll be right as rain." Was his suggestion, to which the Princess almost snapped at him for, but as she opened her mouth to speak, she paused, closed her mouth, pondered for a moment, and nodded.

"Right then. Where is the tavern, anyways? I could use a drink." She replied, her foul mood dimishing significantly. Walter always had the best ideas.

"There's one just up ahead." He said, pointing to the building at the top of the stairs. The Princess snorted. Of course these renegades would set up shop right next to a tavern. One couldn't liberate the kingdom from a tyrant without the right amount of alchohol in them, of course. Rolling her eyes, she followed Walter into the rather run-down building, which was already quite alive with patronage. In what was left of her foul mood, the Princess nearly scoffed, thinking that when people had nothing they'd often spend what little gold they had on booze. How could they expect someone to help them when they couldn't help themselves? Shaking her head, the Princess remembered that it didn't matter what the people she was fighting for were like; it was her duty to ensure the betterment of their lives. That was the whole point of all of this. So few had the courage to fight their king and his legions, so it was up to those with strength to save them all. This thought helped to balance out her mood once more, and she almost had a soft smile on her face as she and Walter sat down at the tavern's counter. Ordering a pint each, they sat and sipped their amber drinks in relative silence, albeit a much less tense silecne than had been hovering about before.

It was silently agreed between the two of them that one beer was not nearly enough after all that had transpired, so they ordered another pint each. And another. And another. And one more for good measure... Okay, just one more. The sun dissapeared, leaving a black sky devoid of stars due to the heavy layer of smog hanging above Bowerstone Industrial. The more they drank, the louder Walter and the Princess' conversations got, and when one of the other patrons started singing, they joined in with a handful of others. None of them were particularly in key, but that didn't stop any of them for a second. After a few more songs, everyone eventually got bored and the drunken songs died out. It was some time after this, (and a couple more pints), that the two of them decided it was time to retire for the night. They stumbled upstairs to their respective rooms, and bid each other good night, although it was a fair bit slurred, and any sober person to have heard it wouldn't have recognized what they were saying.

Inside of the small room, it didn't take the Princess long to find the lavatory even as drunk as she was. Swaying the entire way there, she made her way to the even smaller room, stripping down on the way. On course, as she attempted to remove her boot and walk at the same time she only managed to trip herself, landing flat on her face. Groaning, she set back to the task of removing the pesky boot, and with that accomplished, her stockings came next. After she was fully disrobed, she managed to get her way into the tub. The task of scrubbing the grime off of her was made difficult by the amount that had built up, as well as her own intoxication, but after much work she was finally clean. Passably so, in any case. She was too tired and drunk to do a proper job of it, so she drained the bathtub and crawled into the worn bed without redressing. It was only a matter of moments until she fell into a sleep so deep it could rival the dead.

* * *

_"Mummy, Logan's picking on me again!" A young girl shrieked, pointing at the quickly retreating form of her older brother. It was a regular occurance, as it did with most siblings, but no amount of scolding seemed to be enough to stop the incidents. The Prince and Princess were capable of getting along on occasion, of course, but more often than not they'd be caught in the act of fighting. Their mother did as much as she could to keep them in line, but the castle was large enough that they always managed to find a way to get at each other. It was because of this that the Queen simply sighed and beckoned her daughter over._

_"You really mustn't let your brother bother you so much. He's just trying to get a rise out of you." The Queen informed her youngest child with a soft voice and a softer expression. The little girl frowned._

_"But mummy, even if I try to ignore him he still bugs me!" She whined, and was about to launch into a rant when her mother held up a hand to silence her._

_"My sister and I used to be much the same as you and your brother... The only difference is that when I was even younger than you are now we were on the streets." The Queen said, picking the child up and placing her on her lap, "I knew that my sister loved me, even though she'd occasionally tease me, and I'm sure that your brother loves you." Again, the young girl opened her mouth as if to argue, and was quieted with a look. After a moment of the slightly scolding look, the Queen smiled crookedly, "But when my sister bugged me too much I'd get back at her right quick. Like the time I shoved snow down her shirt while she was sleeping." Both the Queen and the Princess laughed at this. The Princess had heard this story before, as she was quite addicted to hearing her mother's stories. It was one of the few things her and Logan could agree on, actually. The two of them were in total rapture when their mother began telling a story of one of her epic adventures. Thinking of this, with eyes wide with excitement, the Princess looked up at her mother._

_"Mum, can you tell me a story?" She asked pleadingly. It was yet another regular occurance, but it was certainly far more tolerable than the incessant bickering between the Princess and Logan._

_"Again? I would think you'd have gotten sick of the same old stories after so long!" The Queen replied with a chuckle, "Which one do you want to hear, then? Or rather, which one do you want to hear again?" The Princess tapped a finger on her chin, putting on an overdramatic display of thinking._

_"I want to hear how you met the other three Heros!" The young girl decided, a large grin on her face, "That one's even better than your story about Chesty, the evil treasure chest."_

_"That one again, is it? Alrighty then, let's see... Ah, yes, well as you know it was the blind seeress who told me where to go to find the first Hero, the Hero of Strength, though she didn't really tell me where I was going. I was still fresh out of the Gypsy Camp, without the foggiest clue as to where anything was in the world. She directed me to Oakfield, a small farming community, the main attraction of which was the Temple of Light. Not suprisingly, it was in that very temple that I met Hannah. She didn't seem like much of a Hero when I first met her, what with being part of a passifist order, but she did speak of her vows with a bit of disdain at the time. In any case, I was to escort her through a cave in order to fetch blessed water for one of the temple's ceremonies. Just when we were nearly done, another monk ran into the cave in a terrible panic. He said one of Lucien's men was at the temple, with her father, and before I could even react Hannah was gone. We got there too late, though, and Hannah's father was shot by the soldier. I didn't take her long to break her vows after seeing that..." The Queen's eyes got a distant look to them as she spoke, "The next day, at her father's funeral, she took up the name 'Hammer', as well as her place as the Hero of Strength. _

_"Next I had to recruit the Hero of Will, which was a far cry more tricky than the first. I discovered that the next Hero was a man named Garth, whom I had seen on the same day I lost my sister all those years ago, but when I went to his tower to speak with him, I learned that Lucien's men had made it there first. They took Garth, and it was up to me to get him back. To do so, I had to join the army that belonged to the man I so desperately wanted to kill, but the only way I could do that was by winning in the arena." She snorted, "The arena was a cakewalk compared to what came next. Obviously, I won, claimed a trophy, and my ticket into the Tattered Spire. It wasn't how I'd imagined it to be... I don't think it was possible to expect what lay within the Spire. Inside those walls, I was forced to do the most terrible things... And I spent ten years completely devoid of compassion for the poor sods who suffered at my hands. I had began to forget what life had been like before I was there, and I had lost all hope of ever leaving, but I never forgot why I was there in the first place. When Garth helped me escaped, it was like a dream. Gripped with the possibility of freedom, I shot down any who stood in my way. Only when the Spire was to my back, however, did I begin to believe that I was actually free of that hell. _

_"There wasn't much time for rest when I returned, as Hammer had quickly learned the location of our 'Number Three', as she called him. We didn't have much information on him at the time, just that he was wicked with a pistol and quite the celebrity where he was from. And so, in search of the Hero of Skill, I trompped through swamps that radiated evil, and eventually stumbled into a town of sin. Bloodstone, home to cutpurses, whores, pirates, and worse. At the time, I couldn't believe that was the place where I'd find the third Hero, but sure enough, at the top of the town in a rather grandoise house, was the Hero of Skill. He was a Pirate King, if you were to believe a word that came out of his mouth," She glanced down at her daughter and chuckled, "Which I certainly wouldn't. Anyways, the third Hero was as vile as the town he lived in, and before he would help he demanded that I do him a 'favor'. After I did his... little chore for him, he revealed that he'd sold me out to Lucien in exchange for a rather sizable sum of gold. The weasle obviously didn't realize what kind of person Lucien was, as he was informed shortly afterwards that Lucien was waging a battle against Bloodstone, in search of me, as well as him. It wasn't long after we escaped from Reaver's mansion that I was given my chance for revenge... And denied it." The Queen sighed, looking a tad deflated. This was not lost on her daughter, who eyed her with concern._

_"But I thought you said you killed Lucien right there in the Spire." The Princess commented, still looking at her mother with an expression of worry._

_"No, I said Lucien had been killed in the Spire, not that I had killed him."_

_"So who did kill him, mummy?"_

_The Queen looked at the floor for a minute, scowled, and answered._

_"Reaver."_


	4. A Party to Remember

Disclaimer: I own nothing Fable, not the Princess/Hero/Queen, Albion, or the wonderfully delightful Reaver. It's just for fun, and we do so love fun. =P

Author's Note: Yay! Fourth chapter, and the story's starting to get somewhere! Reaver's made his grand appearance, and he'll be making another one in this chapter. At least we get to have some fun before the rather dark parts to come. To Savana-Night, I thankee for your support, and rest assured, I will keep updating... Hopefully with more expediency than I did with the last chapter. And to those who are reading my story, but not bothering to comment, I invite you to give me some input as to how I'm doing so far, as well as thanking you for reading my story in the first place. On with the show!

* * *

The Princess awoke with a somewhat bitter taste in her mouth. While her dreams had been wonderful at first, having a chance to experience the wonderful presence of her mother and whatnot, they had taken a decidedly sour turn towards the end. She pondered for a moment, wondering if the same man whom her mother had spoken of with such scorn could truly be the same fairly youthful man she had seen only yesterday. It didn't seem likely, as if it were him he would be showing deffinate signs of aging, but a doubt remained. Her mother had never told her much of the Hero of Skill, save for a few comments here and there. None of those comments, however, were what one would call 'nice', which was one of many reasons why the Princess couldn't help but think that the Reaver she had seen was the same one her mother had known. Shaking her head, she banished the thoughts and stood to get dressed. The clothes she had worn the previous day were out of the question, and never before had she been so glad she'd remembered to pack an extra outfit. Sighing as she slipped into her trousers, the Princess thought longing of the days when she could wear skirts. Obviously, one does not wear a skirt into battle, as you're likely to give someone a glimpse of something they shouldn't see, hence the trousers.

Once dressed, (it was quite a lovely ensemble, all things considered. A deep red blouse with a black vest and matching black trousers.), she left the room to see if Walter had gotten up. She peeked her head inside of his room, but found it was empty save for a note.

_I went back to our new friends' place. Wanted to discuss a few things with them._

_Sorry I didn't wait, but you slept in._

_-Walter_

Smiling, she folded the note up and put it in her pocket. Behind her, she could hear Burd snuffling around in the room. "Well, my friend," She said, turning to face her ever-faithful companion, "It seems we're on our own for now. Let's go have a look around town; see if anyone needs our help, eh boy?" His ears perked up at this, and he wagged his tail before running in a small circle. She smiled at him. If ever someone were to say animals weren't intelligent, they'd need only see Burd to prove them wrong... Most times, anyways. With a click of her tongue, the Princess told Burd to follow, which he did without a moments hesitation. Well, it would have been more accurate to say that she was following him, as he continually bounded ahead a few paces and stopped to make sure she was still there. It was ever so endearing.

* * *

After having a nice rest, a few drinks, and a good meal, the 'whole Hero business', as the Princess had called it, seemed much easier. It would have been much nicer, mind you, if it had involved less killing. Nearly everything she had to do in order to gain popularity among the people involved killing _something_. From mercenaries, to Hobbes, wolves, Hollow Men, and even demonic, fire-breathing chicken in the case of that one rather odd request. By the end of it all, she was thoroughly exhausted, but knew even then that the day was far from over. Trudging back to the Rebels' hide-away, the Princess could only wonder what task awaited her when she arrived. The stink of the sewers that led to their base was still as bad as the first day, (she had been hoping that it would smell a little less worse upon her second entry, but such was not the case), but she was distracted by this when she heard Major Swift call her over.

"Ah, the Rebel Princess!" He called with a chuckle, "I was just about to toddle off to the castle to report to your brother."

"Don't call him that; he's no brother of mine." She reminded him with a slight frown. She really had to get people out of the habit of pointing out the fact that she was indeed related to that murderer.

"Of course, my apologies. In any case, I was also going to see if any of the old guard is still loyal. See if we can't round us up a few more troops. We'll certainly be needing them for what you're planning."

The Princess nodded. "That is all too true. Well, good luck to you then. I hope you're successful, Major."

"I'll see you later then. Tally-ho." He replied with a nod and a small smile, waving his pipe in farewell. Smiling is response, she waved goodbye before continuing on towards where Page, Walter, and, in all probability, Ben waited. Before she even entered the room, she could hear Ben talking excitedly. Rolling her eyes as she caught snippets of what he was saying, (some hyped-up story about his exploits in battle, from the sounds of things), the Princess could only wonder what Page must have thought of his antics.

"I'm tellin' you! I downed three Hollow Men with one shot!" He attempted to convince the dark-skinned woman.

"I've never trusted soldiers; I'm not about to start now." Came the reply of an irritated sort.

"Walter, you tell her!" He pleaded, looking over at the older man. Walter shook his head.

"I'm staying out of this." Walter said, holding his hands up in some form of defense.

"Look, there she is. Just ask her."

"Give it a rest." Page snapped, clearly losing her patience. She turned to face the Princess, her scowl turning into the slightest hint of a smile. "You're a pretty decent person for royalty, I must admit. People are starting to believe in you." The Princess couldn't help but grin. It was the first positive words she had heard the other woman utter.

"What? You didn't think I was up to snuff?" The Princess inquired playfully, grin still in place, "I told you I'd do it."

"Indeed you did. But we've got bigger problems than the one's you've faced before." Page replied, turning serious again. "Reaver. For too long has he oppressed Bowerstone Industrial, but we've never had the opportunity nor the means to get back at him... Until now, that is." Again, she smiled, even if only slightly.

"We know he hosts these sort of... 'Secret Society' parties every week. We haven't the foggiest what goes on in them, but we _do_ know what the guests look like." Walter continued for Page, "A few of the Resistance members broke into Reaver's mansion, but they never came out again."

"We're going to go in there and find them." Page finished, "You'll need to wear this. It's full outfit worn by the people going to these parties. We nicked it off some of the people who were leaving Reaver's manor." She handed the Princess the folded up outfit. Eyeing it warily, she dreaded to see what it would look like on her. Reaver was more than famous for his and his company's rather... Promiscuous nature. Still, if there was only one way in... She looked up at Page.

"When do we leave?" The Princess had learned long ago that business meant business, and that there was no point asking a lot of questions. She'd find out the answers eventually, in any case.

"As soon as possible; there's another party tonight, and we don't want to be late." Page turned to Walter and Ben, "Now if you two could leave so we can get changed, that'd be great."

"I could stay here and... Make sure no one spies on you?" Ben attempted, sheepish smile already in place.

"Out." Page said firmly, pointing towards the door. Sighing, Ben walked rather dejectedly out, muttering something that the Princess didn't catch. Chuckling, she took her clothing and walked behind a stack of crates. Upon unfolding the outfit, she found that it really wasn't all that bad, save for the low-cut neck. It would be an understatement to say she was a little relieved that it wasn't as bad she she'd imagined it. Removing her current clothing, she slipped into the rather elaborate masquerade outfit, muttering about how utterly stupid powdered wigs were. The final product was rather stuffy, (the Princess had never been one for elaborate outfits), and more than a little uncomfortable. She would have to shoot Reaver somewhere uncomfortable, not that there was a comfortable spot to get shot in, in order to get back for having to wear such a dreadful outfit. She wondered if she only felt the outfit was terrible because her only reason for wearing it was to infiltrate _Reaver's_ little party. If he hadn't been involved in the equation, maybe she wouldn't hate it so.

Scowling, the Princess dispelled the thoughts, as they clearly weren't getting her anywhere. Readjusting a few crooked parts of the outfit and setting the ridiculous hat over the even more ridiculous wig, she walked out from behind the crate. Page grinned crookedly at her.

"It suits you. I suppose that's because you're royalty, though." She commented, same grin still in place. The Princess couldn't tell if she was joking or not, but rolled her eyes all the same.

"C'mon, let's go then." The Princess muttered, gesturing for Page to lead the way.

* * *

They managed to make it to Milifields without too much trouble, (they were only jumped by bandtis twice. There certainly was a downside to wearing such extravagant clothing when out and about), and now both Page and the Princess stood outside of the gates that led to Reaver's Mansion. Even just looking through the gates, the Princess was disgusted by how grandoise it all was. The bloody egomaniac even had a statue of himself situated so that everyone whom entered his property would see it. If they weren't trying to be discreet, she would have shot the statue right in the smug grin it wore. She did, however, have to admit that it was a good likeness. It must have taken forever to make. Still, the skill in which it was made didn't make it any less revolting. Scoffing, she continued following her companion. She almost looked around for Burd, but caught herself, remembering that she had told him to wait at the Rebel's headquarters. It wouldn't do any good disguising herself if she was recognized for the dog that was always at her side.

"Are you ready for this?" Page inquired, breaking the Princess out of her thoughts.

"Yes, I think." She replied before smiling slightly, "Let's go have a party then, shall we?"

The two of them chuckled slightly and pushed open the large doors and walked into enemy territory. They were only in the first room of the house, and the Princess could see at least six people scattered about, passed out from too much liquor by the smell of things. Confetti and empty bottles were also scattered about the place. '_It looks like Reaver throws quite the party..._' The Princess mused. After noticing all of the party-related things laying about, her attention was finally drawn to a rather ugly man clearing his throat.

"We're here for the party." Page said, a bit nervously in the Princess' mind. She would have scolded her for seemingly like she was out of place, but now wasn't the time nor the place. All that aside, the man seemed like it was more an annoyance than anything.

"Bit late, aren't you?" He questioned, frowning slightly, "Nevermind that. Just tell me the password an' we can forget all about it." This caused Page and the Princess to exchange looks. They should have anticipated something like this, but how could they? Walter had even said they had no idea what went on inside these little soirees. But a password? That wasn't particularly good news.

"Er, yes... The password..." Page began uncertainly. The thought of scolding her for sounding out of place didn't even cross the Princess' mind this time, as she would have likely said the same thing.

"Nah, I'm just pullin' your leg. Come on in." The man chuckled, although alarm bells were still going off in the Princess' mind, "My name's Barry Hatch, by the way." And with that, he motioned for them to follow. Exchanging another glance, the two women reluctantly followed Barry, unsure of what to expect. The Princess worried that if the other rebels had been caught that Reaver would expect them to come and try to save the day. If that was the case, then it could almost be guaranteed that he would spring a trap; a trap that they could very well be walking into right now. Perhaps the password was a way of telling the actual guests apart from the rebels trying to rescue their comrades. So many questions, none of which could be answered until they got to where this man was leading them. It was more than a little nerve-racking.

"You should have showed up earlier," Barry said casually, "All the alchohol's been drank up by the lot of these lightweights. But I'm sure Master Reaver will be glad to have a few more conscious people around for the final ceremony." The Princess raised an eyebrow. Ceremony? What was this, some kind of cult gathering? "There is still some cooking cherry left in the kitchen, if you're desperate."

"No, thank you." The Princess murmured. Though she was nervous, her voice didn't betray her and show it. She had learned early on in life that royalty was expected to 'put on a face'. Luckily, all of her years of practice were paying off beautifully.

"No? Don't blame you. Never touch the stuff myself... Except in the mornings." He replied with a chuckle. They continued walking in relative silence. When the silence was broken, though, both of the women wished it hadn't been. "If you'd like, I could sort you out a nice orgy." Barry said, as non-chalantly as if he were asking if he could get them something to eat. The Princess was about to say something, but Page beat her to it.

"Just _keep walking_, you strange little man." She spat through grit teeth. Every time that man opened his mouth, the more foul the Princess found him to be. Such a repulsive person... It was no wonder he worked for Reaver. Shaking her head, she decided to ignore anything else the man said Luckily, he didn't say much before they reached their apparent destination. It was at that point he asked them to disarm, and also at that point that Page made a rather idiotic mistake... That is, if Reaver didn't already know they were coming.

"I'm afraid I'm going to need these. I'm here for some friends."

"Oh! So you're the noble rebels, then? Well, why didn't you say so?" Barry said, with a friendly smile that still seemed a little too sinister for her tastes, "I'm an opressed proletarian myself; we're practically comrades! Now, if you'll go through these doors you can sneak right past the party." The alarm bells in the Princess' mind grew louder. This was the same door he was leading them to in any case. However, there was little else they could do at that point... Although, I suppose they could kill the weasley little man and have a look-see around for themselves, but that would completely defeat the purpose of them infiltrating the place. But, again, only mattered if Reaver didn't expect them, and the Princess was beginning to believe they were _very_ expected.

On the other side of the doors was a cage, and in the cage was the man who had nearly gotten them shot when they had walked into the Rebel Headquarters. Nerves still on edge, the Princess followed Page and ran up to the cage containing Kidd.

"Kidd!" Page exclaimed, "Where are the others?"

"All dead. It's a trap; Reaver knew you were coming." He replied, "You have to get out of here!" He exclaimed. The cage began ascending suddenly, and the Princess cursed.

"I knew this was going to happen! I'll get him out of there." She exclaimed, grabbing the bars of the cage and holding on as best she could. She was immensely frustrated when she discovered that the door was on the _other side of the cage_. With a groan, she made to start moving around the cage, but it jarred to a stop so suddenly that it shook the Princess from where she clung. Luckily, she saved herself any embarassment by landing on her feet, as opposed to her bottom. Her knees bent as she landed, so as to lessen the impact, but all the same a wave of pain shot up them. It was minor, however, and not nearly enough to slow her down.

"My, my, my! More _busy little bees_ here to steal Reaver's honey!" The Princess winced as that all too familiar voice carried through the spacious room. Her eyes raised to see the source of the voice as well as a handful of party-goers standing on a platform raised high above where she and Page now stood. Reaver continued his little speech. "So industrious! So commited! So bloody annoying. You people really should learn how to just enjoy life."

"I'll enjoy killing you; does that count?" Page snapped back at him. This caused a smirk to form on Reaver's face as he reguarded the two women glaring up at him. The Princess' scowl deepened when she noted that it was the same damned smirk his statue outside was sporting.

"Well aren't you full of spunk?" Reaver replied, speaking to Page, "Quite the little heroine. I bet you're lightning under the bedsheets." He commented, taking obvious delight in how Page sputtered out of indignation and rage.

"Calm down. Don't let him get to you." The Princess whispered to the other woman. She didn't appear to take heed of her words, however, and still appeared as anger as ever, though the sputtering had stopped. As this was going on, Reaver adressed his guests.

"And now, as promised, the evening's piece de la resistance. Another piece of the resistance." He chuckled at his little joke. Again, he reguarded Page and the Princess before speaking. "Do try to put on a good show for my guests. I'd be terribly displeased if I went through all this trouble for nothing."

"You expect us to _entertain_ you? We're here to kill you, not preform for you!" Page shouted up at him, causing him to chuckle once more.

"It's just a game, my little sweet." Reaver replied with a rather patronizing tone. If looks could kill, Page would have certainly killed Reaver twenty times over by now. Anger radiated from her in way unimaginable as she fixed Reaver with the harshest of glares.

And with that, the game began...

* * *

After fighting Hobbes, Hollow Men, Mercenaries, and these peculiar things called 'Sand Furies', the Princess and Page returned to the main room once again. This time, however, it seemed that Reaver was getting fed up with their victory streak, and he let them know how annoyed he was by dropping the 'cheerful' act.

"You holier-than-thou idealists, always thinking in the simplist, most binary of ways. It's almost sickening how rudimentary your views on things are." His change in attitude was almost startling, but as quickly as it had came, it was gone, and he was back to the morbidly cheerful person he always was, "But I quite agree; this game has gotten a bit tiresome, hasn't it? My guests are beginning to grow a bit... Restless." In the background, the Princess noted that Barry Hatch was up there, attempting to flirt with one of the party guests if her assumptions were correct. Her eyes were drawn away from that little scene, however, when the pointer on the wheel began moving once more. When it stopped, the situation got worse.

The woman Barry had been attempting to smooth-talk went through a transformation. It was quick, and the Princess had barely registered it had happened until Barry was screaming for Reaver to help him and trying to pry his hand free from the grip of the woman.

"Balverines?" The Princess exclaimed, a look of horror on her face as she watched the monster descend upon Barry. It was grossly terrible, and yet she couldn't look away, as she saw the creature tear chuncks of flesh from the man. Feeling her gorge rise, she averted her eyes in favor of checking how many bullets she had left. Though it only took a second, it was a second too long, as when she looked up it was just in time to see one of the guests, now turned Balverine, swinging a clawed hand towards her. It caught her on the waist, and sent her spinning to the ground. Pain nearly blinded her as she landed on the fresh wound, but she still managed to draw her pistol and fire multiple times at the abomination that was advancing on her. Much to her horror, the bullets did little to slow the beast down, let alone stop it. Unsure of what else to do, she threw a weak fireball at it. Luckily for her, it was distracted long enough for her to stand and ready herself for the onslaught. It didn't take long for the battle to get into full swing.

Never before had she had to rely on magic so heavily, but when three different Balverines had surrounded her and prepared to gut her with their fearsome claws, she'd had little other choice. The room smelled like burnt hair and flesh before too long, but it did little to stop her. When she had the opportunity, she would attempt to shoot the creatures before they got too close, but they had this pesky habit of jumping unexpectedly, and landing right beside her in an instant. By the time the last Balverine had been done away with, both the Princess' and Page's outfits were torn and covered in blood, both theirs and the monsters'. Breathing heavily, the Princess fixed Page with a frown.

"I'm not letting you bring me to any more parties." She muttered, putting her pistol back in it's resting place. After a very brief chuckle, they turned to Reaver, eager to be done with this nonesense. Reaver '_tsk_'ed.

"Well, you've made me look like quite the poor host. Quite rude of you to dispose of all my guests." He scolded them, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Now it's your turn, Reaver." Page growled, raising her pistol. In the fraction of a second before she fired, the Princess was a little worried when she noticed that Reaver was doing nothing to move, nor had his smile disappeared. When Page did fire, she found out why. It was so fast she could barely see it, but see it she did. As the bullet sped towards him, Reaver lifted his cane and effortlessly knocked it away, his smirk growning all the broader as the bullet fell to the ground beside Page's feet. Normally, she would have been above such things, but all the same her mouth fell open in disbelief. It took her a moment, but the Princess eventually found the words she was looking for.

"What are you?" She asked, looking down at the bullet he had so easily deflected and then back up at him. His only reply was to smirk down at her, twinkling eyes examining her behind his mask.

"My dear girls, why don't we put an end to all this nonsense? The three of could retire to my quarters and have a nice _private party_." Reaver smirk once again grew. For the first time since she'd donned it, the Princess was glad for the mask, (the hat and wig had long since fallen off during the battles), as it hid the blush that crept on to her cheeks. It was not because she was flattered, but simply because that was the first time somone had directed such a comment towards her. Page, however, seemed to only get angry at the suggestion.

"Do you have any idea who this is?" She asked, although she answered it herself, "This is Logan's sister! She's the bloody Princess!" Taking this as her cue, the Princess ripped off the mask and glared up at Reaver with her own face. She prayed that there was no sign of that blush left, as she certainly didn't need that deviant getting the wrong idea.

"The king's sister, a bona fide Hero?" He seemed to muse this for a moment, eyes fixed upon the deffiant Princess, "Well, I wouldn't dream of coming between sbilings... Well, there was that one time..." He chuckled to himself as he turned to walk away. "Anyways, good luck with this whole 'revolution' lark. Perhaps I'll see you later." As he said this, he glanced over his shoulder, casting one last look at the Princess. "Tatty-bye!"

"Wait!" Page shouted, firing once more. The shot missed Reaver, hitting the frame of the door her was walking through, and then he was gone. "Bloody coward..." Page hissed after he was gone. Suddenly, they heard the cage rattle above them, and they were reminded of the captive Kidd.

"Hey! Would someone mind getting me down now?"

* * *

Outside of Reaver's manor, the Princess, Page, and Kidd discovered that dawn had began. Though she didn't admit it, after all they had just been through, she was surprised they were even still around to see the dawn. Downing a health potion, and passing one to Page, she admired the sight of it. Sunrise and sunset were always so beautiful, the way the oranges, reds, and pinks all blended together, forming one of the most lovely colours in the process. She only looked away when Page spoke.

"I never thought I'd find myself on the same side as royalty, but you're a far cry from being anything like your brother." Page smiled, "You can count on the Bowerstone Resistance to fight beside you... So long as you promise to change things when you've got your crown. Poverty, child labour, people living in fear... You have to make it all stop."

"That's a promise I can make without hesitation." The Princess replied with a lopsided grin, "You can count on me." She extended her hand towards the dark-skinned woman. Page accepted the hand that was offered to her, and as she shook it, she spoke once more.

"Then you can count on us, as well." The happiness that was shared between then was short lived, as a voice broke the relative silence.

"Everyone's attendance is required at the castle! The king is about to make an adress! Please, make your way to the castle!" The town crier shouted. The Princess forwned. Logan hadn't been big on public adresses latetly. In fact, he'd wanted as little to do with his subjects as possible. Why, then, was he making one now?

"This can't be good..." Page murmured before turning back to face the Princess, "Could you go? I'd do it myself but, well... There's a reason we stay in the sewers." The Princess nodded. She had a bad feeling about all this, but knew, as the one who was going to take the throne, that it was her duty to see to such matters. So, bracing herself for the worst, the Princess bid Page and Kidd farewell and went back to the sanctuary to get a fresh pair of clothing. She knew she had to be quick, but if she showed up at the castle covered in blood she'd likely stand out in a crowd. If Logan caught her now, all of her work would be for nothing.


	5. The Worst Gets Worse

Disclaimer:I own nothing Fable, not the Princess/Hero/Queen, Albion, or the wonderfully delightful Reaver. It's just for fun, and we do so love fun. =P

Author's Note:Ach! I'm a terrible person! I never meant for the delay to last this long. x_x I have no excuse for why it took me so long to update, although the reasons are that I was lazy, addicted to Fallout New Vegas, Oblivion, Soul Eater, and the Joker, as well as being sick. In any case, I'm hoping that now that I'm approaching the part I've been excited about since I started the story I'll go back to updating regularly... No promises though. _; Anyways! Enjoy the latest chapter!

* * *

While she did greatly enjoy wearing fresh clothing, she couldn't shake this nagging feeling that whatever it was Logan wanted to say in his speech wasn't particularly nice. Somehow she doubted he wanted to say something like 'Child labor is abolished', or 'The taxes are being lowered.' Things like that didn't seem to cross his mind, having turned into the ruddy bastard that he had. She scowled, glaring at the ground as she walked through Bowerstone Market. The streets were oddly empty, though this was easily attributed to the fact that Logan wanted to have his 'Royal Address'. Her scowl deepened. It was disgusting that someone like him was the King of Albion. He had no right to sit on that throne if all he was going to do on it was make the peoples' lives miserable. What would their mother think of her son's actions? Was it really possible that Logan was turning into the same type of person who their mother would have fought against? It made no sense... What could his reasoning be? Most everyone has a reason for doing something less than reputable, so surely Logan must also have some reason for his behavior... She shook her head. Thinking about it was making her brain hurt, and she decided that focusing on the task at hand would not only hurt less, but it would also help her obtain answers quicker. Luckily, she saw a familiar face to help with keeping her mind off of such dreary subjects.

"Hello, Ben. Have you heard anything about what Logan's issue is?" she inquired as she approached. Silently, she was thanking whoever would listen that she didn't have to deal with this alone. Ben was a good companion. A bit silly at time, but he had a pretty level head. It was good to have someone like him on her side.

"Nah. Logan's been keeping this to himself. Probably after a dramatic reveal." Ben chuckled, but there was no humor to it. The Princess could tell he felt similarly about this situation. When it came to Logan, no news was good news. She sighed.

"Well, we should probably get in there. We don't want to miss the King's show." She suggested with a grimace.

"Yeah... I think we might've missed a bit of the speech already. You royalty take forever to get ready." This time there was an actual chuckle from the two of them, even if they were half-hearted in the attempt. "Anyways, shall we?" The Princess nodded in response and they both fell silent as they began their approach to the castle grounds. The closer they got, the more prominent the sound of Logan's voice echoing through the eerily empty streets. Try as she might, she couldn't make out anything he was saying. Finally, with a sigh of defeat, she resigned herself to waiting until they were there to find out what Logan was going on about. When they got there, she immediately wished she hadn't come.

"Yes, traitors walk amongst you!" Was the first thing she heard Logan say. She would have found the humor in that comment, if it were under better circumstances. "These traitors would seek a way to destroy our way of life, and would even have you believe that their cause is a noble one. They wear many faces; they may look like your friends, your family, or even your most trusted subjects." At that moment, the Princess felt a pang of panic as she watched a very familiar man being dragged up in front of the crowd on Logan's cue. Only a moment later, Ben also noticed whom had been dragged up front for all to see.

"Swift..." He murmured, his voice strained. Even from the distacne they were at, they could see the blood splattered all over his clothing and skin, though it did little to hide the evidence of the large bruises that could clearly be seen. He looked a right mess, and it only made the Princess hate Logan more to know that it was his orders that led to Swift's treatment. Thinking back to her earlier musings, she decided that Logan _was_ becoming the type of person her mother would have fought against. This caused her to frown as she continued watching the proceedings.

"Major Swift, a respected officer of the military and sworn servant of the kingdom, is one such traitor. He has plotted against us all." Logan glared down at the crowd, as if he suspected all of them of 'betraying' him. The Princess found herself thinking that it was a miracle he hadn't noticed the two of them, but the thought was short-lived as more pressing matters were on the forefront of her mind. She looked at Swift, dread twisting her stomach until it felt like she was going to lose it's contents. Major Swift was a good man. This was not the kind of fate good men were supposed to suffer. It didn't help her feel better to know that this was often the fate of men who fought for the greater good. Life wasn't a fairy tale; you couldn't expect to be rewarded for all of your good deeds, even if you deserved it. Glaring up at the man she once called 'brother', she made a decision; even if Swift didn't get what he deserved, Logan would certainly get what _he _deserved.

So angry at her brother, she barely heard Logan's words as he continued his rant. She couldn't stop thinking about what she was going to do to him when she could finally get close enough. Was this how her mother had felt about Lucien? Had she thought of every reason why she was going to kill him until it had seared the inside of her mind, leaving a permanent impression? It didn't matter; this was different. Her mother had no connection to Lucien until the night when he killed Rose. She hadn't grown up with him, hadn't known him her entire life. That was why it was even harder to try and forgive him. While having her mother around would have been nice, as she would have been able to gain answers to the questions that now went unasked... Her mother was dead, and those questions would forever remain both unasked and unanswered. It rested upon her shoulders to right this terrible wrong, to avenge those who had suffered, those who had died, because of-

A shot rang out.

The Princess' eyes widened as she watched Major Swift's body drop to the ground. The soldier whom had fired the shot holstered his pistol, and she watched as Logan returned to the castle. She returned her eyes to Swift, and watched as blood mixed with rain water. As she watched, she felt numb. So very numb... She had seen death, and ended more lives than she cared to admit, but never had she seen anything like this. All of the death she had seen, those who had died had a chance. They weren't dragged out in shackles and put down like a dog... They had a chance, unlike Swift, unlike Elliot, and unlike countless others who had crossed Logan. It was wrong...

She was still in shock when Ben spoke, and his angry words barely registered. Her eyes were still wide and fixed upon Swift's lifeless body. Ben repeated himself, calmer this time. "C-... C'mon, we've got to go tell the others." He placed a hand on her shoulder and began leading her away from the crowd, though even this she barely noticed. Just as they were reaching the outskirts of the crowd, Ben turned 'round once more to cast one more glance at Swift. His expression turned sour. "Logan'll pay for this... I don't care if it kills me; he'll pay." His declaration was no idle threat, even the Princess in her dazed state could tell as much, And she managed to pat him on the shoulder sympathetically. She couldn't find any words to say, let alone any that would comfort the man, so they returned to the rebels' hideout in silence.

* * *

The numbnessstill felt fresh when they returned to the rebel headquarters and spoke to Walter and Page about what had happened. Even Page, with as much as she hated soldiers of all stripes, was disturbed by the news. As the three of them spoke, the Princess had retreated a ways to think. She let her mind wander in the hopes that she would come to some epiphany about what she had seen, something that would make it less horrible... But nothing helped. She knew that Swift had known the risks of joining in with a band of 'traitors', as Logan had called them, but that didn't stop the thoughts that told her she should have done more to protect the people who were following her. There was a bitter taste in her mouth as she stared at the sewer wall in front of her. Major Swift was dead, and she had done nothing to stop it.

"Are you alright?" She heard Walter ask her softly, drawing her out of her thoughts. She looked at the man whom had been closest thing she had ever had to a father. She was quiet a minute, before running up to hug the large man. In that moment of silence, she had wondered '_What if it had been Walter up there?_' She couldn't lose him, because if she did she'd have no one. Sure, there was Ben and Page, but it wasn't the same. Walter was the last of her family, as far as she was concerned. Her mother had been done in by illness, her father had died before she really even knew him, and her brother had died when he turned into the monster he was now. There was only Walter.

"Walter... I should have done something. I-I just stood there... I didn't even try to help..." She was babbling, though she barely realized it. Her brain had partially shut down after witnessing such an act, and it was having some problems starting back up again. She felt so lost, like a small child alone in an unfamiliar city. Placing his hands on her shoulders, Walter looked the Princess square in the eyes.

"If you had tried to save Major Swift both you and Ben wouldn't be here right now. Logan would have had the two of you killed on sight, and Swift's death would have meant nothing." Walter explained, attempting to calm the Princess down. "You can't save everyone."

"But I should have tried! Swift was an ally, a good man, and I just sat there and watched as he was killed!" She shouted, looking exasperated. "What good is being a Hero if I can't even save one man?"

"You're forgetting that there's still an entire kingdom of people to save. You can't let this distract you from the fact that there are hundreds of others who are suffering right now. If you let this one thing stop you, so many others will be left at Logan's mercy." Walter sighed before smiling slightly, "Besides, Swift obviously wanted us to continue; he sent a message to us before... He sent us a message telling us where to go next."

The Princess was silent a moment, contemplating what had been said. Much as she was loathe to admit it, Walter was right. She still had a job to do. Besides, how was she going to keep the promise she made to Swift if she stopped now? Smiling at Walter, she decided that she had to keep moving. "What did the message say?"

"Well, this is Swiftie we're talking about, so it's rather straightforward." Ben piped up, the slightest of smiles on his face, "'You will find allies in Aurora.'"

"That still doesn't make sense to me," Page cut in, frowning, "How can anyone help us there? Aurora is a dead land; there's no one there."

"That's just what we've been told. It's still the best, and only, lead we have." Walter murmured, glancing at Aurora on the map in front of them. It certainly looked as Page had described it; a dead land. The Princess could only wonder how much was there that went unmapped.

"So when do we leave?" the Princess inquired, looking to Walter for an answer.

"Tonight, as soon as it gets dark. You and Ben will go and get a ship while Page and I will keep Logan's soldiers busy. For the moment, though, I'd suggest getting ready. It's an almighty battle we're looking at, make no mistakes. Logan will be right pissed, and if he has his way he'll likely send a damned armada after us." He grinned, "Hopefully, me and Page'll be able to stop that from happening."

"Alright then, sounds like a plan. I guess I'll run to Bowerstone Market to get ready. Anyone need anything while I'm out?" The Princess inquired, her spirits rising now that she had a goal. Having something to focus on certainly kept the dismal thoughts at bay, that was for certain.

"Actually, I think I'll go with you." Ben replied, smiling ever-so-slightly. The Princess returned his smile, before turning to leave.

"Right, let's go." She halted mid-step, remembering something, "Burd! C'mon, boy!" At the first sound of his name, there was a grey streak dashing into the room, followed by a rather happy dog jumping up on his master. laughing, she patted him on the head. "Down, Burd." She told him calmly, and his reaction was to sit down with gusto. She laughed again, and motion for Ben to follow her.

* * *

As the sun set, things were tense in the Rebel Hideout. Everyone was on edge, tingling with anticipation for the upcoming fight. Finally, when the sun's last lingering light went away and the sky was black, they were ready to move. They went over their plan once more, as they had done many times before the nightfall, and when they left, the plan was burned into their minds. The Princess and Ben would be taking the bck alleys to avoid detection while they obtained a boat, while Walter, Page, and the rest of the Rebels would be causing the distraction, and hopefully making it impossible for a fleet to follow them out to sea. It wasn't the type of plan that needed to be spot on, with no mistakes. Quite the contrary, there were room for mistakes, as , (in the Princess' mind), they had kind of been feeling their way through the dark with this one. She could, of course, have been mistaken, but that's how it seemed to her. Either way, there were only two things that absolutely _needed_ to get done; Steal a ship and disable the others. That would be easier if they managed to avoid detection up until the last moment, but she highly doubted her luck was that good. This fact was proved only moment after her and Ben exited the sewers. Standing between them and their destination was one of Logan's troops, guarding the route they were supposed to take. The Princess cussed quietly, but Ben just smirked at her.

"Best we try to find away around this without causing a ruckus. Don't worry, I have a plan; leave the talking to me and follow my lead." He told her quietly before walking up the stairs calmly. Confused as to what his so-called 'plan' might be, the Princess followed after a moment and waited to see what the ex-soldier had up his sleeve.

Upon seeing the duo, the soldier frowned, raising a hand. "Halt! Only Royal Guard are allowed; this area is off-limits to civilians." This was usually the point when the Princess would launch into battle-mode and kill him before hehad a chance tor realize what was happening, but Ben said he had a plan, so she waited.

"I know, sorry, but wow! Has anyone ever told you how stylish that outfit of yours is? What with the helmets and all. Me and my friend here were just wondering what someone has to do to join up with you. Being ordinary soldiers just feels so insubstantial when compared to you guys." Ben explained, rather unconvincingly. He looked to the Princess for support.

"Er, yeah! Purple's such a lovely color, and you guys always do such a bang-up job of things." She added with a lopsided smile. She couldn't believe she said something so stupid, but what's done was done.

"Leave." The soldier said gruffly, his hand moving towards his sword. Tempted to reach for her pistol, the Princess retrained herself, hoping that Ben's plan improved a little.

"Oh come on. You don't have any pamphlets or sign-up sheets?" Ben tried again.

"Leave. _Now_."

"Could we maybe just get inside to get your autograph? We're _huge_ fans."

"This is your last warning; Leave or we will be forced to terminate you."

Ben sighed, and then smiled once more. "See? Even their vocabulary is stylish." And then the fighting started. The Princess had known it was coming, as Ben's acting had been less than convincing, but it was nice to be doing something so simple again. There wasn't much for thinking while she fought, it was all instinct. She wondered if that's how it was for regular people. Was it because she had Hero blood in her that it all seemed to come so naturally? After their foes lay dead in the dirt, the Princess looked to Ben.

"I thought you said you had a plan." She accused, a slight smile pulling at her lips.

"Plan? I said no such thing." He replied, feigning confusion.

"Well, if you had no plan, you suck at improv." She chuckled as he smiled wryly. The humor faded quickly, however, and the two of them continued on there way, eyes peeled for more of Logan's troops. It wasn't long until they encountered another batch of the brutes, though they were dispatched as easily as the first group had been. As they hastily made their way through one of Reaver's factories, (she assumed it was Reaver's, anyways.), the Princess wondered if it should really be so easy to end a life. Behind the brutality of Logan's soldiers were actual people, with lives, families, memories, and dreams. They had none now, all because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. She pushed the thought away forcefully, reminding herself that such thoughts wouldn't make it any easier to do what needed to be done. If she stopped to think about every life she ended, she'd go insane before she had a chance to fulfill her destiny. And let's face it; Albion's had enough of insane rulers.

After what seemed like an eternity and an instant all at the same time, they finally reached the docks. Another batch of soldiers were shot down, and in the distance explosions shook the earth. Looking to the large pillars of smoke rising from the site of one of the explosions, the Princess smiled. She knew Page had been planning to blow things up in order to distract most of the soldiers, but seeing it was different than witnessing it. She could only hope that Page was planning on saving some of those explosives for Logan's warships. Drawn out of her thoughts by the sound of a factory door being thrown open, the Princess aimed her pistol at the source, halting herself only a moment before firing. She was glad she had, as it wasn't another detachment of troops coming to attempt to stop them; it was Walter, who was panting heavily.

"Walter!" She exclaimed, putting her weapon away. She was glad to see him, although that seemed to dissipate when she saw his expression. It was one of concern.

"We've got to move; it seems we're going to be followed after all." Walter explained quickly, hurrying past her and Ben towards the docks. He stopped in front of a small row boat, and the Princess frowned. "It's not much, but it will have to do." Behind her, Ben scoffed.

"Yeah, or we could take the one right there and not drown as soon as we leave the harbor." Ben suggested, pointing to the ship on the other side of the dock. Walter chuckled in response, turning around to examine the ship. The Princess jogged up to her mentor, a look of confusion on her face.

"Where's Page? Isn't she coming?" She inquired, glancing around.

"She's staying here to keep a handle on things. Have to leave someone here to make trouble for Logan, after all." He replied with a grin. The Princess laughed, but it was short-lived. They were still on a mission, and still in a battle zone. Another explosion shook the ground as if to prove her point, and her expression went serious.

"One of you knows how to sail this thing, right?" She asked, hoping that they hadn't come this far only to find that none of them knew how to sail a ship.

"Don't you worry, Princess. I've got enough experience to get this thing moving." Ben replied, a cocky grin in place. She wasn't sure if she believed him, (he had lied about having a plan, after all), but decided now wasn't the time. They had to get a move on, so with a quick nod she followed the two on to the ship. A quick inspection of the vessel informed her that it was a trading ship, (for Reaver Industries, to be exact), and she felt a sinking feeling in her gullet. She prayed to whomever would listen that they could make it to Aurora without encountering Logan's fleet, as they had no weapons to work with. Guns and swords don't work particularly well against canons. If the fleet _did _catch up with them, the ship would be little more than firewood after they were through with them. It didn't bode well, and the Princess could already tell it was going to be a long night. Very long indeed.

* * *

The had been making what the Princess had thought was good time, but all the same she couldn't for the life of her get some sleep. She was tired, and could feel it tugging at the edges of her awareness, but no matter how hard she tried to remain still and keep her eyes closed, some small inner voice told her to keep an eye on the horizons. So she did, as sleep was currently out of the question. It was beginning to get light out, and the grey of the pre-sunrise light illuminated their fates. Before them lay the shadow of land, and behind them lay an ominous shadow that was getting worryingly closer with every passing minute. The fleet was on it's way, and all they could do was watch as the impending destruction fell upon them. It wasn't long until a single ship broke from the mass, speeding past the rest to meet with the unfortunate rebels. None of them panicked; there was no point in panicking if there was nothing you could do to prevent that which might cause panic. Instead, they all tried their damnedest to get the ship moving faster. They tossed non-essentials over the side, and pushed the engine to go as fast as it could. It still wasn't enough.

Soon enough, the ship was beside them. The Princess had been at least slightly hoping that the soldiers would board the smaller ship and place the three of them under arrest. That never even came close to happening. It was all such a blur; one minute the ship was beside them, looking ominous but not taking any action, and the very next instant, canons were upon them, firing in a fraction of a second. It was hard to tell what really happened next, as everything was in complete chaos. Splinters flew up from where the ship had been hit, and the Princess threw herself to the deck to avoid a larger chunk of wood that had been thrown in the air from a separate cannonball. In a frenzy she looked about to see if she could find Walter, Ben, or Burd. There wasn't enough time to even stop for that though, as right beside her there was a massive crash. She scrambled to her feet at the ship's mast fell, and hurried to avoid being crushed by it, also avoid airborne debris and canon fire. It was hard to move quickly, as the deck was continually shaking beneath her feet as the ship was barraged by the canons. It was such a bloody mess...

...And suddenly, the noise ceased along with cannonballs, but it was hardly the end of their woes. Her companions were nowhere to be seen, much to the terror of the Princess. Had they abandoned ship? Had they been hit? Her world tilted, and she thought for a moment that she was getting delirious. It was only a moment later that she realized that the ship actually was slanted, and sinking no less. She looked around once more, desperate to find any of her three allies... Preferably all of them. But she couldn't see a single one of them still, and she felt her panic rising. She cupped her hands around her mouth around her mouth and called them, but there were no answers. The ship was sinking quickly now, and she knew that when it went down, it's pull would drag her with it. Reluctantly, she cast one more glance around in search of her companions before finally diving off of the side of the ruined ship. She swam for awhile, making sure to get as far away from the vessel as her tired limbs could carry her. Even out here she couldn't see any of them.

She saw a piece of the ship floating near her, and propelled herself towards it. Fatigue was more insistent now, her panic draining what little energy she had. She clung to the piece of lumber and continued calling for the others. She called them until she went hoarse, and even then she tried, all though all that came out were cracked croaks. Not long after her voice gave out, her vision went black...


End file.
